Slow Spinning Redemption
by SpinningBlack
Summary: An outrageous insult, a secret masquerade, and a surprising tryst all conspire to spin Hermione Granger's world on its axis. Blaise Zabini can't forget the mysterious, sensual girl who seduced him after a lush fete. Simultaneously his mother has decided that she will run his life, or else.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: This story was written sometime in 2012 - 2013 (I can't recall the exact dates I uploaded) and originally uploaded to FF, ADULTFF, grangerenchanted, and later A03. In the beginning it was a one shot called Masquerade and a sequel called Remembrances and Revelations. It was then combined under the title Slow Spinning Redemption. I later decided to pull it for personal reasons. I decided to re-upload this story for it to be enjoyed by all. This is the only place that this story will be uploaded. If you find this story, or any of its incarnations, anywhere else then they are there without my permission.  
**

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Hermione was considered one of the cleverest witches of her age, and was often congratulated on her bravery. During situations that called for it, she was always able to pull out her Gryffindor courage and do what needed to be done. Hermione had proven she could duel with the best of them in the last battle against Voldemort, when Harry had finally defeated the dark wizard.

All of these accomplishments however, didn't lend themselves to a shining example of a social life. There had always seemed to be something else that needed her attention more, and her personal life had suffered as a result. Hermione didn't regret that she loved to study; in fact, her love of books and learning had brought her back to Hogwarts for her final year. Ron had decided not to return to finish his Hogwarts education.

She didn't blame him in the least, not very many of the students from her own year had returned after the death of Voldemort. The communication between Ron and Hermione became strained and the relationship, known for its ups and downs, had finally crashed and burned, and she hadn't tried to date again. As a result, she had thrown herself into her studies and was determined to get sterling N.E.W.T. scores; scores that had gotten her into the prestigious Graham's School of Witchcraft. The school boasted the first female Minister of Magic as one of its more well-known alum.

Hermione very much enjoyed the emphasis on scholarly excellence that seemed to fill the hallowed halls, but she was more than glad to return home for a much needed Christmas break.

Ginny had used the opportunity to invite her to what she said was going to be a small party at the Burrow. Hermione realized, once she arrived, that 'small' was a gross misrepresentation. The party seemed to have everyone from both Hermione's and Ginny's year. All those, within their house anyway, with the odd Ravenclaw and assorted Hufflepuffs in attendance. She could have groaned in frustration. She had hoped it would be low key, only a few of their friends. She didn't have the heart to hurt Ginny's feelings, but what she really wanted to be doing was sitting at home in her pajamas.

She was coming out of the small loo, when she heard an irritatingly familiar voice coming from a bedroom slightly down the hall, the door partially cracked.

As soon as she heard the giggles she rolled her eyes. Lavender Brown. She'd recognize that annoying titter anywhere. Hermione decided to tiptoe down the hall quietly to avoid the irritating girl. However, her curiosity got the better of her.

"Have you decided what you are going to take to wear yet, Lavender?" she heard Parvati ask.

"I was thinking about that red dress, you know the one. Ron likes me in red." Lavender giggled.

"I bet he does," Parvati laughed. "Does he talk about Hermione any?"

Lavender snorted. "Not really. He probably didn't have any fun with the frigid bitch. I think she'd marry her books if she could. I bet Hermione couldn't shag worth a damn, and probably wouldn't know fun if it bit her on the arse. Won-Won is just lucky I took him back. It was written in the stars that we were meant to be. And anyway, he's going to have much more fun with me than with that cardboard cutout of a former girlfriend."

Parvati burst into laughter. "I kind of feel sorry for the girl. It's like she's an old woman. I wonder when she is going to add about fifteen more cats to her collection to keep Crookshanks company."

Hermione was seething by this point. She would have pushed open the door and launched herself at either Parvati or Lavender, whichever was closest, but one thing stopped her: maybe they had a point. Discounting the obviously untrue comments. Hermione was not frigid in the least, and Ron knew that. That hadn't been the problem with their relationship. Really, it had been Ron's jealousy and the actual distance between them. Both had amicably decided to end the relationship. Hermione had known that Ron was back with Lavender, and even though she didn't like the girl, she had been prepared to treat her with civility. Hermione bit her lip. Maybe she didn't have enough fun.

Hermione grimaced and quietly strode down the hall. After apologizing to Ginny for leaving so early, she Apparated back home. Back at home, she contemplated her dilemma. She decided she would have to do something crazy, and possibly far out of character. She would do it for her own sense of accomplishment and not to prove anything to Lavender or anyone else. In fact, she would do it covertly. It would be something that she could remember later on and say to herself, "Yes, I did that."

It was the next afternoon, while flipping through an issue of Witch Weekly that she got her idea. It was like the ad jumped out at her. And in fact it had, so to speak. Only people with a certain level of magical ability and talent would be able to see the actual ad. Most people would see an advertisement for magical fishing rods.

Hermione saw:

MASQUERADE

 _Witches and wizards of a certain magical flair,_

 _come and join this fantastical affair._

 _Identities known at your own discretion,_

 _and will not remove you from our affection._

 _Your safety is assured while within our doors,_

 _but be on guard as soon as you leave your protection is yours._

 _The revel ends at dawns first light,_

 _and you are required to leave this site._

 _An r.s.v.p is needed to attend this fete;_

 _this particular rule must be met._

 _Send anonymously to Antoine Duright,_

 _to enjoy the pleasure of the night._

Hermione marveled at the advertisement. It was exactly the thing she needed. And of course, she also liked the thought that went into its creation. She determined that it was cast using a variation of the Disillusionment spell and only called to certain people.

Running to her room, she quickly wrote a reply and sent it off.

A few days later, she received a response. A metallic silver card that simply stated attendee in flowing script and included the time and date. The timing couldn't be more perfect. The masquerade was going to be held a few days into the Christmas break, so she wouldn't have to account for her whereabouts to her nosy roommate and it would give her time to search for a costume in the London shops.

It was the day of the masquerade and Hermione still hadn't found a costume. That morning, she set out to find something. She wasn't going to let not finding a costume keep her from the party. She realized that she was being picky, but the costume had to fit a few certain criteria. It had to be attractive, but still completely disguise her identity. She wanted it to be something original. It couldn't be anything too mundane, because although no one would know who she was, perceptions would be based solely on her costume, and since the party would be full of very powerful wizards and witches a boring costume would just fade into the crowd. It would be a delicate balance. A costume that would be seen as beautiful and clever, but not stand out so much that she would feel uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

At first, she looked at fairy costumes, but soon discarded that idea as too trite. She looked in shop after shop, and it seemed that there was only a few options regarding themes. There were sexy options like a French maid costume, sweet options like a shepherdess or an angel, or funny options like a big pretzel or a stop sign.

Hermione was getting discouraged by the time she found a small, out of the way shop called Tamblyn's Togs. Despite the kitschy name and it not being an actual costume shop, Hermione decided to go in.

After looking around, it seemed that the shop had many different types of clothing from around the world. Rich fabrics and quality tailoring abounded in the small shop that despite its size and contents, maintained an airy, organized, and welcoming air.

Hermione was beginning to doubt her ability to afford a single garment in the shop and was turning to leave when a voice rang out.

"Can I help you? I'm sure that I can find something within my shop that would suit you." The voice was followed by a small woman with dark sloe eyes. Her hair was looped up-swept into a style made of many complicated braids. The dark eyes stood out against creamy, smooth, white skin with a bloom of rose in the cheeks that seemed completely natural.

"Actually, I don't really know if I can afford a thing in here," Hermione said sheepishly.

The woman just smiled. "This place is not for profit really. Its more for my enjoyment, so sometimes if I feel inclined, I drop the prices for some people. What exactly is it that you are looking for?"

"Well, I'm planning to go to a masquerade, and I haven't found a costume that feels right. I want something sexy, but not slutty. Attractive, but not so much that I'd feel uncomfortable wearing it all night. I have to be able to dance and move quickly in it if I have to. Oh, and I know that this is not really a costuming shop," Hermione hastened to add.

"It is in a way," the woman replied. "I really just hope that my customers enjoy the garment, even if they just plan to display it." She looked at Hermione considerately, then snapped her fingers. "I think I have just the thing."

Hermione was finishing the last touches on her costume. It was something that she had never thought that she would ever wear. A harem dancer outfit. It wasn't one of the cheap off-the-rack kind that you found in large costuming shops, but instead, it was a beautifully made costume rich in detail that had set Hermione back almost three hundred fifty pounds, but she was sure that it could have easily been sold for thrice the amount. And even that would be a discount.

The skirt was a deep sapphire blue with delicate gold embroidery running up the split sides. It was held up with a gold belt beaded with what Hermione thought to be real polished lapis lazuli. The split sides ran almost up to the beaded belt, which rested low on Hermione's hips. Underneath, she wore blue lace boy shorts and a blue wand holder around her thigh that resembled a garter. On her feet were lovely gold sandals with straps and small pieces of lapis bejeweled upon them. The top was made of a chain necklace made with gold coins and pieces of lapis, under which was an almost transparent golden fabric that held the necklace in front of the bust and attached around the back. It was basically a halter that just managed to camouflage the goods.

Hermione used a good amount of Sleekeasy's to tame her curls. She pulled half of it up and let the rests tumble down in a riot of curls. She charmed the gold glitter she put in her hair to stay in place until she decided to shampoo it out. She made up her face almost neutrally, with her cheeks a rose color and her lips a dewy pink. Her eyes stood out the most. She had applied a smoky dark blue eyeshadow and dark blue eyeliner that made her brown eyes pop behind the gold mask that she used in place of the forehead chain.

Thank goodness her parents were out for the night and would be asleep by the time that she returned. They usually didn't pry into her activities overly much, but seeing her in an outfit like this would have been sure to make her father flip.

Since it was December, Hermione cast a warming charm, before grabbing a dark blue silk hooded cloak that she had spelled to disappear and reappear as a bangle on her arm when she removed it about her shoulders. With a deep breath, she pulled the hood over her head and Apparated to the party.

She appeared in an entry way. It was lit with a large crystal chandelier that sent light over a black marble floor shined to perfection. Against the walls were a few chairs and chaises that were decidedly Louis XIV.

Standing in front of her was a couple handing their silver invitations to a man that creepily resembled a Dementor in his flowing black robes. He had a plain domino upon his face. He spoke to the couple softly, too softly for Hermione to make out his words, and after glancing at the couples invitations, ushered them into the huge black double doors that dominated the entryway.

Hermione pulled her hood a bit lower and walked forward with her invitation held out. The man looked at her for a full minute with frosty blue eyes and stated softly, "no dueling will be permitted. If you must, you are required leave the premises and duel elsewhere. Not even on the grounds. By accepting this invitation you are in fact agreeing to a magical oath to do no harm while within this establishment. Harmful spells and potions will be rendered null. Disregarding these rules will result in...complications that neither the proprietor nor yourself would wish." He reached out with almost skeletal white hands and grasped her invitation with two fingers, which seemed longer than they should be, and ushered her through the doors.

Hermione gasped at the room. It was an almost perfect rendition of the Palace of Versailles famous Hall of Mirrors, but done in tones of black, smoky gray, and silver. Instead of looking out to stunning gardens, the windows reflected snowcapped mountains and a dark starry sky. The floor was more of that shining black marble. The room was huge, and Hermione could just make out the string quartet and a modern Muggle speaker system in the back of the room. The arches led to cozy sitting areas. The room should have seemed somber, but the mirrors lent it an open feeling and the gaiety warmed up the room considerably.

There were people costumed in almost everything imaginable. Hermione saw court jesters, Queen Elizabeth's, banshees, vampires _real_ and _imagined_ , mermaids in floating shells, and even Muggle costumes like Elvis, and Marilyn Monroe.

Hermione snickered at a person dressed as Harry Potter. Some of the women took the chance to dress up in scantily clad costumes that barely covered them and had none of the class that Hermione's costume had. Some people were simply dressed in dress robes and black dominoes.

Hermione gathered her courage and removed the cloak, which vanished into a midnight blue smoke that smelled of jasmine and reappeared on her wrist. Immediately she felt attention.

She looked past the dancing couples and finally spotted a man against the wall looking at her with snapping black eyes. He was dressed as a highway man, wearing a long black coat made of leather, black pants stuffed into tall black riding boots. Around his face was a black kerchief knotted in the back of his head and covering all but his black eyes and a strip of tanned bronze skin. On his head was a black tricorn with an elegant black plume. He moved a hand and pushed back part of the long black coat. Hermione saw that instead of a Muggle pistol, he instead had a saber in its sheath suspended from a black leather belt around his lean hips. His eyes seemed to challenge her.

For an instant she hesitated then remembered what this night was about and approached him. When she reached him, she could see the smile in his eyes and smell the sandalwood based cologne on his skin.

He pushed his lean form from the wall. He was much taller than she was. At least six foot. He looked her form up and down, but not in a leering fashion, and took her measure. Hermione placed a small hand on her hip and looked back with as much of a measuring stare that he had.

She could tell that he smiled behind the kerchief before raising his hand in what was obviously an invitation to dance.

Hermione placed her hand in his and was swept into a traditional waltz. She was so glad her mother had insisted that she learn.

"You're beautiful, you know," he finally said. His voice was a crisply British with a hint of another accent that Hermione could almost discern. He stated the compliment simply with no implied flattery.

Hermione laughed. "How would you know? You can't really see my face."

"It isn't your face...more like the you that shines from the inside. Like a passion that you rarely let loose."

Hermione was a bit stunned. "Thank you," she said breathlessly. "You cut quite a figure yourself."

He laughed and it was a thoroughly masculine sound that Hermione decided that she liked. "Thank you, milady," he said and spun her around then bowed. Hermione realized that it was the end of the dance and managed a slightly clumsy curtsey.

He held out a hand and Hermione placed hers back within his. He led her to one of the alcoves. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked.

"Yes, I would," she smiled. She made herself comfortable on a cushy black divan while he returned to the ballroom for drinks. She smiled again. She was relieved because she had thought for all her rebellion of attending a party like this that she wouldn't have fun, or that all the mystique of the ad and invitation wasn't going to amount to anything. Thankfully, she was proven wrong.

She was pulled from her reverie when he returned with the drinks. He handed her a crystal wineglass and she was surprised to find it filled with butterbeer instead of the expected wine. He settled in beside her and in noticing her surprised look at his beverage choice, simply said, "I never drink alcohol, but if you would prefer something more stout, I can go get it for you." There seemed to be something more weighty behind that statement, but because they didn't really know each other, Hermione pushed her curiosity away and didn't pry.

"Oh no," Hermione said. "This is fine. I'd rather not be intoxicated, so I can better remember the night. Besides, I Apparated here and who knows where I'll end up Dispparating in a drunken stupor," she said, laughing.

They talked for hours about many different topics. He didn't even get that glazed over look that Ron used to get when Hermione started to talk about Arithmancy, but gazed and listened to Hermione speak with an attentiveness that she found thrilling.

Finally, Hermione realized that she had run out of topics. "I'm so sorry, I haven't let you get a word in edgewise," she said sheepishly.

"Actually, it's been rather refreshing not to have to speak much. It is getting rather late though, and I am finding that another venue might be in order," he replied.

Hermione bit her lip. She could go the route that she usually would and bid him goodnight or...she could grab for the gusto. "What did you have in mind?" she asked saucily.

His smile reached his eyes. "I have a villa that is very nice." He stood and held out his hand.

"I'm game," she said, placing her much smaller hand into his.

They crossed the room seemingly oblivious to all, but in actuality very aware of their surroundings. Passing through the large double doors and reaching the Apparation point, Hermione suddenly blurted, "I just realized that we don't know each other's names."

He chuckled. "For our purposes, you may call me Noyes."

Hermione smirked. Giving her the name of the Muggle author Alfred Noyes, who had written The Highwayman. So that was the way of it. "Then you must call me Jeanette sir," she said, giving him a play on her middle name.

He wound both arms around her waist, and instinctively, she stood on tiptoe and looped her arms around his neck just before they Apparated.

When Hermione regained her equilibrium, she found that she was in front of Noyes' "Villa". As the morning light shone on it, she knew that the most apt description for the home would be mansion, perhaps even a palace. Just what kind of money did Noyes come from?

Noyes noticed her curiosity as they entered the large carved wooden door. "The home is Italian Renaissance. It has fifty-five rooms on four levels. There are ten bedrooms, not counting the house-elves quarters, and three kitchens. It rests on about thirty acres. It is one of the more modest homes that my father bequeathed to me as his heir." He laughed at her astonished expression.

"Heir to what?" She was taking in the what she was sure was stone set white marble tiles and muraled walnut ceilings in the entryway. There were bronzed wall sconces holding brightly lit candles, warding off the darkness of the entry. A tiny table by the door held a polished silver tray that would hold visitor cards.

He rolled his eyes. "Well...in Italy, I would be a Marquess by birth, but titles of nobility are not recognized here. As for England, I'm so far down the list of succession that it isn't even worth mentioning. Thank Merlin I'd never have to ride that particular broom. Too much pomp and circumstance for my tastes. I have enough on my plate trying to convince prejudiced wizards into investing with me. My youth plays against me much too often in the boardroom, but I'm a fair hand at investments and innovation, and that is what supplies the Galleons for all you see." He said all this while leading Hermione through arches and domed ceilings fraught with gold leaf and carved stone accents.

"So you don't buy into the pureblood sentiments?" Hermione asked.

He sighed. "I'm not going to pretend that I haven't said anything of that nature to get where I need to be, but at my core, I don't believe that Muggle-born's or half-blood's are inferior. I've seen a fair many of them with as much magical talent as any pureblood; but for my interests, I keep my private thoughts just that."

Hermione felt just a tiny stab of disappointment at his words, but pushed it aside. She knew that she couldn't always expect all pureblood's to throw out all of their learned prejudices overnight just because Voldemort was dead.

They had walked up a wide curving staircase and reached a small sitting room. The walls were papered in a striped sage green color that echoed on the upholstery of the chairs. A large mostly burgundy colored Persian rug dominated the warm brown wooden floor. One entire wall was windows and looked out onto a flowered formal garden with grass still glistening with morning dew.

Noyes pulled out his wand and conjured a small table with two comfortable chairs. He reached up and pulled his tricorn off of his head, revealing short dark curls, and set it on a nearby chaise. He began to remove the kerchief around the bottom of his face, but paused and looked at her before grasping his wand once more. He tapped his wand against the kerchief and it was transfigured into a plain black mask quickly giving her no glimpse of his entire face, but revealing full sensual lips and more of his bronzed skin. He began to unbutton the many buttons and finally removed the large enveloping leather coat. It soon joined the tricorn on the chaise. Finally, Hermione could see the whole of his form rather than just the broad shoulders, and was pleased. He had a lean ripped body that the white billowed shirt and black vest he wore couldn't disguise. His black pants covered muscular legs. He wasn't overly muscled, but looked more like a swimmer, a natural athletes body. He unbuckled the belt slung low on his hips and let the rapier hit the floor.

"Tips," he called.

A house-elf dressed in an pink pillowcase knotted over each shoulder appeared. She had a large pink bow attached over her right ear. "Oh sir, Tips didn't realize that master would be in today. Tips doesn't have a thing ready." The pink bow quivered in her anxiety.

"It's fine, Tips. I didn't think that I would be in today either. If you please, have some bangers, eggs, and chips delivered at once. I'd also like some toast and orange marmalade, a pot of stout tea, and whatever Miss Jeanette would like," Noyes said.

"I'll just have what you are having," Hermione said.

"Very well," the house-elf said, and with a pop disappeared.

"She didn't seem to notice our odd attire," Hermione said.

"She probably wouldn't. Tips has been here since before I can remember. She has rather decided choices in fashion herself. I buy different color pillowcases and leave them strategically when I visit for the house-elves. It's not exactly giving them clothes, because they make of them what they will, but I feel better for doing it."

Hermione was touched at his gesture. Not many people understood the plight of the house-elves. Hermione had finally resigned herself the notion that the house-elves liked their servitude, but she was still of the firm opinion that they weren't to be treated as slaves. As a result, S.P.E.W had been redirected, not into freeing the elves, but ensuring that they were fairly treated.

Noyes led her to the small table just as Tips, followed by a male elf, dressed in a waistcoat made from a dish towel, set the food on the table before seamlessly popping out of the room. Noyes pulled out her chair, waited until she was comfortably seated then pushed the chair near the table.

They proceeded to eat. Hermione noticed that Noyes had beautiful table manners, which made her a bit self-conscious about her own, but soon her growling tummy overruled her nervousness and she ate normally.

After eating, they moved over to the largest chaise. And after talking for a few minutes, Noyes said, "Jeanette, I'd really like to kiss you."

Hermione had been waiting for this and rather than wait for him to make the move, she leaned forward and softly kissed his lips.

Nudging her lips open, Noyes took over the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth. It was like the dam broke on their restraint and the sub-conscious desire that they both had held at bay, reared to the front line.

Noyes wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist and gathered her closer, further deepening the kiss. He picked her up effortlessly and settled her on his lap, letting her feel his hardness. Hermione broke the kiss and gazed into his eyes. They were so dark she felt as if she would fall into them. She wanted to pull her mask and his away and kiss him as Hermione. She wanted to shed the Jeanette exterior, but she was afraid that it would shatter the mystique and magic of the night. She knew instinctively that he had been more honest with her than he would normally have been without the facade.

She was going to have sex with a man she didn't even really know. Maybe that was what the entire night had been leading toward, she thought.

Hermione reached behind her head and undid the gold barrette keeping her hair restrained. She shook out the curly tendrils before applying herself to the task of unlacing Noyes's shirt. After the last lace was removed, she pulled at his shoulders. He raised, allowing her to remove the shirt. His chest was revealed and it was absolutely scrumptious. He had amazing abs and no chest hair to speak of. There wasn't a scar at all to mark the perfection of his bronze skin.

Hermione leaned down to kiss behind his ear, making her way down to his jaw and back to his lips.

Noyes's breath hitched and his arms slid down from her waist to her arse, grasping it firmly, pushing her against his heat and tearing a throaty moan from her. He reached under her hair and found the first catch of the halter behind her neck and it loosened. His hands ran down her back to the next catch and it soon popped free as well. In the next moment, he tossed the halter to the floor. Hermione's generous rose tipped breasts were exposed and Noyes wasted no time suckling one into his mouth.

Hermione arched and she ran her hands over his strong back feeling the muscles as he applied his attention to the other breast. Hermione slowly moved away from him and found her feet. She reached underneath the split blue skirt and pulled down the lace boy shorts. She unbuckled the encrusted belt and the skirt pooled around her feet. Kicking it aside, she dropped the belt on top and stood before Noyes wearing on only the blue silk wand holder around her thigh. Removing her wand, she aimed the tip at her abdomen and cast both a contraceptive, and STD protection non-verbal spells.

Sitting the wand on a close settee, she approached Noyes once again. He watched with hooded eyes when she placed her right foot in the spot between his legs. "Take it off," she said motioning to the wand holder.

Noyes lent forward and slowly rolled the elastic holder down, placing soft kisses against her leg as he went. Raising her foot, he removed the holder entirely, tossing it on the skirt with the belt.

Hermione placed her foot back on the floor and moved back when Noyes reached for her.

He looked at her with surprise, but Hermione was having much too much fun running the show to let him take over her next move. She pulled off both of his boots and socks before dropping down to her knees in front of him. She kissed his stomach and began to unbutton his pants, pausing only a moment when she realized that he wasn't wearing briefs or underwear of any kind. She pondered the sexiness of a wizard not afraid to go commando before reaching into the opening and grasping his cock in hand. He groaned when she stroked up and down, and ran her thumb across the sensitive head. He was much bigger than Ron had been and Hermione just hoped that she would be able to take him. Removing her hand from the opening, she started to remove his pants, grateful when he raised his lean hips to assist.

Noyes had had enough of being passive and rose from the chaise, grasping Hermione in his arms before lying her down on the cushy Persian rug. His lips captured hers again before running down her throat, then her stomach, even placing his tongue in her belly button before returning to her lips. His hand gently ran down her body, and upon reaching between her legs, he thrust two fingers into her slick channel. He removed them and thrust them in again and again while Hermione moaned and thrashed her head from side to side almost dislodging the golden mask that she still wore. Noyes gently rubbed his thumb against her clit and she came hard, convulsing around his fingers. It was the most erotic thing she had ever seen when he slowly removed his fingers and placed them into his mouth, licking them thoroughly, before leaning down to take her into another passionate kiss. Hermione's arousal, despite a stunning orgasm, swiftly built back up.

When the kiss slowed, he murmured against her lips, "Are you ready Cara?"

She moaned and he took that as a yes. Raising her right leg high up on his hip before surging deep inside her. He was large and she marveled at the complete fullness. The stab of pleasure was almost too keen to be borne and he hadn't even started moving. It was so far beyond what she had experienced with Ron that she almost felt as if she had never done it before. She shivered in the delicious sensation.

And that was when he began to move.

He moved with an almost graceful movement, like sex was an absolute true art form to him. Hermione's left leg slid up his hip and the sensation intensified. She raised herself for each thrust meeting him and pushing them both to the place they desperately wanted. Each slick stroke slid over a spot inside her that made her want to scream with pleasure and she grew hotter and hotter. Noyes 's glides had become less coordinated and he began to pump into her with hard short strokes, moving faster and faster.

Hermione felt herself getting closer, and his next stroke pushed her into an orgasm so strong that her eyes seemed to black for a moment. Her back was bowed with the pleasure and the contractions as a result, pushed Noyes into his release and he came hard, shooting his hot seed inside her. Withdrawing from her, he lay bonelessly against her side a moment before drawing her into his arms. With a wandless spell, he conjured a blanket over them and they both drifted into a sated sleep.

Hermione woke first, leaning over and carefully placing a soft kiss against his lips. She was careful not to wake him. She didn't want any awkward goodbyes.

Hermione dressed quietly and removed the bangle from her wrist, draping the re-transfigured cloak around her shoulders. She placed her wand back into its holder and was about to Disapparate before she paused.

What harm could it do if she removed his mask and saw who he really was? She would be gone before he woke and he probably wouldn't ever see her again. With those rationalizations giving her courage, she whispered a spell to remove his mask.

The face behind the mask shocked her so much that she Dispparated on the spot.

It was the pop of the Dispparation that woke him, and he reached over to touch the curvy witch that had previously been just beside him.

He wasn't exactly surprised that she was gone, but he had hoped that they could have repeat performance.

Blaise Zabini rose and ran a hand through his short dark curls. His sexy Jeanette was gone, and he didn't know if he would ever see her again.


	2. Chapter 2

Finance, like time, devours its own children.

\- Honore De Balzac

* * *

Usually, Blaise Zabini didn't at all mind when he found himself seated across from a curvaceous, sloe-eyed beauty, but it quite ruined the scenario when said beauty was his own mother.

To the outside eye, Ophelia Zabini looked all of thirty years, maybe even twenty-five in the correct light. Upon closer inspection, however, the calculating gleam in her eyes and the studied pretense at a leisurely pose gave away the ruse.

Her skin was a beautiful bronze and her eyes were a deep chocolate brown surrounded by sooty lashes. Black curls tumbled down to the small of her back. She was a celebrated beauty. That beauty had bought her seven husbands and wealth beyond measure.

The tea house, where the mother and son sat, was cozy and warm, with a crackling fire that kept the Christmas chill at bay.

Blaise looked out the window in boredom, watching several witches and wizards pull their robes closer against the biting wind to brave the shops for last minute gifts. He couldn't imagine the reason his mother wanted to see him, and frankly, he didn't want to try. He dreaded her summons. It usually involved a distasteful gathering that she wished he would attend, or she tried to finagle the source of his funds from him. Ophelia detested the fact that he kept the information from her. Money was the love of her life, the thing she loved most and beyond anything else. Perhaps second would be her small teacup Chihuahua, Cleo, with a close third being her delight in tormenting him.

His attention was pulled from the window when a young waiter approached the table. Blaise's lip curled as he watched the waiter, who didn't look like he was much older than Blaise's own nineteen, ogle his mother's cleavage. Finally, when it seemed that the waiter would stay mute, he cleared his throat.

"I would like an Irish coffee sans the whipped cream and chocolate shavings," he said.

The waiter wrote down the order, never looking from Ophelia. "And for your sister, sir?"

Ophelia gave small giggle. "Dear boy, you _do_ know how to work for your tip. I think I shall have the same as my son, but include the whipped cream and shavings."

The waiter goggled, looking from mother to son. Realizing his mistake, he blushed hotly and left with a stammered assurance that he would return promptly with their orders.

"Must you play with the wait staff, mother?"

Ophelia shrugged, picking at an imaginary spec of lint on her flawless violet robes. "Why not?" She looked at her son with an assessing look. She loved to prick at his composure.

Blaise knew Ophelia was aware of his sensitivity regarding the stigma that followed their family, and she loved to throw it in his face, it was probably one of her favorite pastimes. It was the taint and the disapproving looks shown them from polite magical society that had made Blaise seem such the snob for so long. Blaise knew from experience that the staid, superior mask he showed in public was one of his best defenses; that and the loads of money under his name in Gringotts.

After the waiter returned with their drinks, Blaise, leaning back in his chair, finally asked, "So Mother, what is the occasion for this lovely family outing?" Thick sarcasm laced his voice and he enjoyed the slight flinch his mother betrayed at her title. She hated being called mother and only wanted to be referred to as Ophelia by her only child. Blaise figured that it reminded her of her actual age, a fact that good genes and permanent magical enhancements couldn't change.

"Does it have to be an occasion for me to want to visit with my only dearly loved child?" Ophelia rallied back quickly.

Blaise smirked. "In the interest of expediency, just tell me what you want."

Ophelia dropped the pretense of motherly affection. "I want you to get married. In fact, I've already chosen the perfect bride."

Blaise couldn't have been more shocked if his mother had just announced that Professor Slughorn was his long lost biological father. In fact, it took a full ten seconds before he could school his face back into its society mask.

Ophelia smiled, twirling an inky black curl around her finger.

Despite the thoughts twirling and crashing against each other within his mind, Blaise calmly reached for his coffee and took a sip. Setting the mug back against the table he said, "Mother, it may have escaped your notice, something that I have no doubt very well could have, but I have reached the age of majority. And the fact that it isn't the bloody sixteenth century, precludes you from the right to choose my bride." Blaise allowed a smug expression to appear on his face.

Ophelia leaned forward in her chair. "Oh Blaise, my pet, you didn't think that you would be able to keep your business dealings from me forever did you? You must have realized that I would eventually discover the fact that you are CEO of Prospero Gaming and Entertainment Incorporated. Granted, it did take me a moment to align my son with the owner of a wizarding game console empire. Really dear, using Pascal Blasius, was very telling to someone willing to do a bit of digging into Muggle history. Blaise Pascal, the famous mathematician and philosopher. French in origin I believe. You really should have chosen a more dissimilar name for your alias. Admittedly, most wizards don't probe into Muggle history and especially not teenage wizards intent on defeating Grendel. Isn't that your newest game release? Beowulf?" Ophelia reached in front of her to crunch into a chocolate biscuit Blaise didn't remember the waiter bringing.

He closed his eyes. "How?"

Ophelia was like a cat in cream. "Honestly Blaise, I don't know how you managed to keep the secret this long. Perhaps, because of the Voldemort business. Without that this probably would have been outed long ago. The story is just too interesting. A young wizard no one has ever seen, save for his lawyer, bursting onto the magical entertainment scene three years ago to take the world by storm. Introducing an innovative magical device that allows the player to involve himself or herself in an entirely interactive role playing world. To be Beowulf defeating Grendel, or Arthur in combat against Mordred and pitting wills against Morgan Le Fay. Even the games of virtual worlds simulating Muggle life. Keeping your identity a secret only increased the interest. Genius. Bravo, my boy."

Blaise's entire world teetered on an abyss. "What do you intend to with this information?" Ophelia could ruin his credibility with one interview with Rita Skeeter. Seventeen was the age of adulthood within the wizarding world, but Blaise instinctively knew that none of his board or stockholders would take a -young CEO seriously. Seventeen was old enough to participate in a war against the defeated Dark Lord, but apparently people got nervous with billions of Galleons resting with the whims of a Hogwarts dropout. That was the sole reason Blaise paid his barrister, Simon Cosgrove, an insane salary to keep his secret and to carry out his directives, as well as sign an iron clad confidentiality contract. He knew that Cosgrove hadn't betrayed him. The fact remained that someone had.

"I hired a private detective some months back. I wanted to know what my son was so intent on keeping a secret, and frankly, it made me angry. I thought perhaps it was something illegal. But lo and behold, my son is swimming in legality. And filthy rich to boot. Really Blaise, you should have pretended to be less secure financially and continued to accept the stipend that I sent you. It piqued my curiosity, when three years in a row you refused my aid. It was a bit startling to find that my own son's fortune is ten times that of my own," Ophelia said, not quite hiding her sneer.

"Do you have even an ounce of maternal affection within you, madam? So you intend to marry me off to a horse-face ninny with a fat purse to suit your fancy. What? Your pool of rich bastards drying up?" Blaise said in a caustic tone.

"Quite the opposite, actually. I have no end of suitors should I choose to go in that direction. You shouldn't keep secrets from your mother. And your so called horse-face ninny is actually very beautiful. It doesn't hurt that your bride will be bringing an obscene amount of money to the marriage. Of course, since you yourself are so well off, the dower your wife brings should go to your mother in her autumn years."

Blaise snorted. So, she wanted to punish him. "Why don't I just give you a billion Galleons to never contact me again. Of course, you would have to sign a contract to that effect."

"What would be the satisfaction in that? Perhaps I also want to see my son in wedded bliss and to dangle grandchildren on my knee."

"It would be far from wedded bliss, madam, so you can refrain from spouting more of the excrement that you just aired. You know as well as I that you are doing this strictly for spite and for your own sick amusement. As for grandchildren, I will not be put to stud for your enjoyment. I have more than enough money to retire in peace and never want for a thing in my life." Blaise decided to call her bluff.

"Don't insult my intelligence. The fact that you went to such trouble to keep your identity secret speaks for itself. You care very much for Prospero Incorporated. So you will do as I wish. You will report to my home in France after one month's time to meet Jacqueline Forsberg and you _will_ court her. Jacqueline is very sensitive, so I had better not hear even a whisper of scandal or I won't hesitate to ruin you." Ophelia stood, snapping at the nearest help, and donning her purple mink coat stepped out into the swirling snow without a single word further to her shocked son.

* * *

After about two hours in a Muggle pub, Blaise had to admit that drowning oneself in alcohol just wasn't the cure for his ills. He hated to admit to himself that he was afraid. The wizarding world was fraught with prejudice, and just a bad word about the way he did business could ruin him. Oh, not financially of course, but it would end his dream. Prospero Inc. was like his child. His blood, sweat, and energy had raised the company from the dirt into what it was today. Developing Mirage, the name he eventually gave his invention, had saved him. It had literally saved him from going down a dark path or letting ignorance drive him into joining Death Eaters out of fear. He had spent countless hours researching and studying alchemy until he finally came to a valid product that embodied his dream.

Mirage looked simple in appearance, but it was so much more. When one opened the emerald green box containing Mirage, one might be disappointed with the clear crystal cube resting on a gold base within. What the buyer might not necessarily know is that the simple cube before them was infused with several different crystals not ordinarily used for the purpose of gaming. Blaise implemented a patented spell of his own creation to fuse and slightly change the properties of the crystals. He used Scolecite to enhance a dreamlike state, Agate for dream variation, Malachite for a richer dream experience, Dioptase for vividness, and Danburite for lucidness. All these crystals, with magically purified quartz coalesced into a powerful magical item. With the insertion of the accompanied crystal card into the golden base, the viewer is able to immerse themselves into a fully interactive adventure that they can stop and start with a few simple commands: Incipere to begin, Mora to pause, and Subsisto to stop. With the purchase of more crystal cards, the viewer could take as many adventures as their Galleons could buy.

Blaise knew that the popularity of the Mirage gaming system and the games that were continually being developed ensured his financial security. Ophelia's threat would more than just affect Blaise. It could potentially cause the loss of jobs for the game spell employees, cube engineers, and the other many and varied workers that were loyal to his corporation. Literally hundreds of people's livelihoods balanced on his decisions. It was quite the weight for a wizard not yet out of his teenage years, but Blaise maintained his executive control over the corporation. That, and the fact, that he was an equal opportunity employer solidified the adoration and devotion of his employees. Prospero was an attractive and much sought career path for both young older wizards and witches.

The success of his business life didn't help his current situation. What concerned him was that the nubile blonde eyeing from the bar had failed to draw his interest. That, after his mother's plan, was his next biggest problem. Not specifically the blonde, but the fact that a hot girl that obviously wanted in his pants didn't do a thing for him.

It had been exactly five days since his encounter with Jeanette and he was still thinking of her. That was not like Blaise in the least. He wasn't exactly a womanizer, but he did pull in his share of women. He easily was able to seduce and step away without his feelings becoming entangled at all. He wasn't cruel about it. Slightly older women who knew the score were per usual. Not to say that he hadn't been with girls his own age, but that usually had its own share of problems. They caught feelings and expected things of him that he was just not willing to give. It wasn't that he didn't believe in love, or was incapable, which was a miracle if you thought about how his mother disregarded the notion. Love was just something that Blaise didn't believe was in the cards for himself. Wealth, yes. Women, definitely yes, but love no. Most people wouldn't know love if it walked if front of them, surrounded by neon lights and slapped them in the face. Blaise wasn't an expert at discerning real love and there was the rub. How would you ever know if the witch wanted you for yourself, or for the Galleons in your bank vault? Better to have a mutually satisfying encounter than muck it up with contrived feelings. Jeanette hadn't said she loved him. Blaise hadn't even given her his real name. The sex had been amazing, the best that he had ever had. Simply, the thought of her body, the way she had moaned, and her response to him had him waking up in the middle of the night with his cock hard as a rock. It pissed him off. The witch had seemingly ruined him for the foreseeable future. He was too young for this shit. Only nineteen and he felt like a fucking eunuch.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione was surprised when a Hogwarts post owl flew into her home on a misty morning, but after quickly reading the letter it delivered, she thought that it couldn't have come at a more opportune time.

Hermione was back home with her parents temporarily. It was a hard decision for her to take a break from school, but she desperately felt that she needed the reprieve. She had only been there for a few days, but was glad for any excuse to be out from under her mother's very watchful eye.

Joan Granger was an attentive mother and she knew when her daughter was upset. She reasoned to herself that the closer she paid attention, the sooner Hermione would confide in her. After many plates of what her mother thought were delicious sugar-free cookies, Joan _was_ a dentist after all, Hermione was happy that she had a valid reason to get out of the house. She could have literally jumped for joy when the owl arrived with a letter from Headmistress McGonagall asking if she had time for a short visit that afternoon. McGonagall didn't go into detail, only stating that it would be better explained in person. It was a hastily written note that ended simply with the password to the Headmistress's office.

Hermione briskly wrote a reply that she would be pleased to meet with her. Giving the owl a piece of bacon in thanks, she sent it on its way.

Thank you Professor, she thought to herself. Joan was driving Hermione insane with her interpretation of a helicopter. The constant hovering seemed like it would never end. She didn't want to hurt her mother's feelings but honestly, it wasn't like one could easily tell one's mother that they were completely gutted over the results of a one night stand.

* * *

Walking the halls to Headmistress McGonagall's office was quite a different experience. For one thing, the hallways were mostly empty, with only a few teachers and the odd house-elf wandering about. It was a quite different feel from when the castle emptied for a holiday.

Maybe it's just me that is different, Hermione thought to herself. After years of barely thinking of Blaise Zabini at all, she found it ironic that she couldn't get him out of her head. She even dreamed about the sexy wizard.

The encounter with Blaise had completely changed her priorities. It had always been a given that she would attend university directly after her graduation from Hogwarts. Instead, after months of only studying , and her emotional upheaval after her little tryst, she found herself in both an educational and emotional burnout.

She had only recently decided that she would take the rest of the year off, and when the headmistress explained what she wanted to talk to her about Hermione thought that it couldn't be more perfect.

"Basically, a family friend of mine asked if I knew any witches that would serve as a proper translator and language tutor for his daughter, " McGonagall was saying. "Bernard Forsberg is a friend of my brother Michael, and he thought that I would be able to suggest a suitable applicant for the job. Since I know that you speak several different languages, I thought that you might be interested. The job would only last two months, and you could save more money for university. Also, it probably wouldn't hurt to have a few extra Galleons in your pocket," she added.

"Where is the job located?" Hermione asked.

"It is in Lower Normandy, France, a coastal town call Harfleur. The Forsberg family has a manor home there. Bernard assures me that you will have free room and board. They have a very nice cottage on the grounds for your use, so you would have your own living space. The salary is rather nice as well."

When McGonagall named the amount, Hermione was gobsmacked. With that pile of Galleons, she wouldn't need to work the entire school year when she returned, or she could actually afford to travel more if she so desired. Hermione's parents had been prepared to pay for her tuition, but they had always stressed that she would need to get a job to pay for her other expenses. Those coins would come in handy especially if she wanted to get a flat by herself instead of being forced to live in a dorm again. That, as well as the fact that it was basically a paid vacation simply doing something that came easily to her, helped Hermione along with her decision. She sent up a small prayer thanking her dear departed Grandmother Elizabeth for insisting that she learn other languages.

"How old is Monsieur Forsberg's daughter?" Hermione asked.

"Jacqueline is eighteen years old, so I think that you will be able to find some things in common. Jacqueline would like to polish her English diction before she is introduced to British wizarding society. She is an heiress and was privately tutored rather than taking classes in a school of witchcraft and wizardry. English was included in her curriculum, but she would like English to come more naturally to her in casual conversations, rather than staid book learned language. It won't be tutoring in a traditional sense. Think of it more as a paid companionship. It will start in a week's time, so you will have time to get your affairs in order if you decide to take the job. They have also sent a cheque to cover your travel expenses," McGonagall finished.

"I'll take the job," Hermione replied.

McGonagall smiled in pleasure. "I'm glad. I honestly couldn't think of a better candidate. I have here a contract that you need to sign. It is clear cut, basically stating that you are contractually bound to complete the full two months of employment, unless the employer deems otherwise. If you like, you may have your barrister review before you sign," she said sliding the contract across the desk.

Hermione assessed the document. It was clear cut, not unlike any other job application she had seen. Deciding against sending it to a barrister, she quickly signed the document and returned it to the headmistress.

* * *

Deciding to put the past behind her, namely the wizard that she still had trouble removing from her thoughts, Hermione let the excitement of her upcoming travel plans consume her. Over the next few days, she bought a wardrobe more appropriate for a summer in France, instead of clothes that would keep her comfortable under her school robes. Of course, being the bookworm that she was, Hermione placed an undetectable extension charm on her book bag and loaded it with books.

Joan was at first hesitant about the news when her daughter returned from her meeting. After seeing the first true amount of joy in her daughter's face in days, her mind was quickly changed. The helicopter was swiftly replaced by a shopping partner. She surprised Hermione further by suggesting that she buy several different swimsuits. If had been up to Hermione she would have only bought a few simple one pieces. Thanks to Joan, she left the swimwear section clutching five different suits, including a slightly naughty white bikini.

John Granger was simply happy to see the women in his life in a better mood. He even went so far as to cook the going away supper himself the night before his daughter's departure.

Hermione was so pleased with the way that things were going that she didn't even notice that the roast beef was slightly burnt.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione arrived in Harfleur after a very luxurious ferry ride. As soon as she stepped from the ship, she had fallen into instant love with the port town. The Forsberg's had been kind enough to have a taxi waiting for her arrival. Because this was primarily a Muggle town, Hermione was pleased to have it. She wouldn't have wanted to Apparate to the Forsberg's home, because she didn't know the proper Apparation point. In addition, this was a foreign country, she reminded herself. No sense in landing into trouble with the French Ministry.

Harfleur was very picturesque. Hermione kept expecting Snow White with all seven dwarfs to walk out of one of the colorful homes. She could smell the fresh sea air, and loved the sight of the houses set right next to the meandering Lezarde River.

The collection of 15th, 17th, and 18th century architecture, along with the beautiful timbered homes only served to add to the town's story book charm. One could easily see the English influence on the French town, but Hermione enjoyed the unique mixture.

The ride to the Forberg's manor was a forty-five minute drive down a long chestnut tree avenue that passed several small farms and homes. Hermione soon learned that calling the home a manor had been very misleading.

"The place is a bloody palace," she murmured under her breath. Or chateau would be more apt, she mentally stated to herself.

The taxi rolled under an imposing stone gatehouse set into a towering stone wall, and stopped in front of a set of large wooden doors.

Hermione helped the taxi driver remove her luggage, and as soon as the taxi sped away, the door was opened by a house-elf.

She assumed that the elf was male, mostly by the blue tea towel that he wore.

This was confirmed when he spoke. "Might you be Miss Granger?" he asked. The voice was French accented and surprisingly deep for a house-elf.

Nodding in assent, Hermione stepped forward and was grateful when the elf levitated her luggage to follow.

"My name is Ansel. I am the steward of Chateau du Stream," he was saying as he led Hermione through the awe inspiring home.

The great room had a tall coffered ceiling and windows cut in the diamond cut fashion. The foyer had a grand stairway, under which there seemed to be an entrance to a wine cellar, that she spied while crossing under a beautiful palladian archway.

Hermione's fingers literally itched with want as she passed by a library that was paneled in a deep cherry wood. One look told her that she would want to spend most of her time there. There were two levels of books! And she had only had a brief glance.

She was snapped out of her book lust by Ansel's voice. "Maitre Forsberg and Mademoiselle Jacqueline aren't in at the moment, but they instructed me to tell you that they would be seeing you at dinner."

After what seemed forever, the house was huge after all, they reached the back yard. Walking down stone steps, they came upon an Olympic sized pool inlaid with a mosaic of blue and green tile. The effect mimicked ocean water and made it seem as if the pool was a hidden lagoon. There was an accompanying pool house set back into a copse of trees. It brought a question to Hermione's mind.

"I was told that there would be a cottage for my use," she asked of the elf.

Glancing back at her he answered, "Oh oui, mademoiselle. It is not far."

Hermione could have, and did, gasp in joy at the sight of the cottage. It was set a little back from the house on a small hill.

After the opulence of the chateau, she had been afraid that she would be uncomfortable by herself in the cottage. Instead, she found herself charmed by the small house. It seemed almost a mismatch for the castle in front of it. The house had a stone and wooden fence surrounding it that almost seemed to sag under the weight of the flowers and greenery that grew over it with abandon.

It was two-story home, and one had to walk up a short flight of stone steps before the white wooden door could be reached. The door opened into a large room that was the kitchen, living room, and dining area all in one. The focal point of the room was a large stone fireplace.

The furniture consisted of a comfortable looking deep blue couch and a matching set of armchairs with a sturdy looking small table between them. In front of the couch was a royal blue area rug that looked soft enough to sleep on.

The kitchen was a little on the small side, but Hermione reasoned that she would be taking most of her meals with the family in the Chateau. She would be having quick meals here and perhaps cooking a little on her off days. The dining area was a small square table set with four matching chairs.

Ansel let her up the short staircase that was set to the right of the fireplace and to a large room that was directly down the hall from the white tiled bathroom. The bedroom was painted a mellow golden yellow and the bed dominated the room. Hermione figured that the bedroom took up most of the back of the cottage.

Looking out of one of the windows, she spotted a small wrought iron table and chairs that she could already imagine as the place that she would take her morning tea.

Ansel proceeded to unpack and put away her things with a snap of his long fingers. As the clothes levitated away from the trunks and folded or moved to hang in the large wooden armoire, he spoke. "Dinner is always at six sharp and you are required to dress properly. Breakfast is always at seven and is less formal. Since the Maitre and Mademoiselle Forsberg are usually occupied with activities and appointments during the day, they usually call for a house-elf to bring them something. Your personal house-elf is named Liddy. At the moment, she is at the grocers gathering some basic things for your pantry. If you have particular things you would like you need only ask her. She should be here before it is time for dinner," Ansel said pointing to the antique clock on the wall. It was four pm.

That didn't leave her much time to get settled and ready for dinner. She thanked Ansel for his help before the elf Apparated away with a pop.

Hermione slipped her feet out of the green ballet flats that she wore and reached a hand up to loosen her hair from the knot that she had secured that morning.

Entering the bathroom, which had a large claw foot tub with an old fashioned shower, she decided to take a long soak. Starting the water, she added some vanilla scented bubble bath and went back to the bedroom to find something to wear while the water filled.

What to wear? It wasn't exactly a formal occasion, but she couldn't show up in her jeans either. Maybe a church dress? She finally decided on an ivory colored pencil dress. It was sleeveless with a narrow golden belt. She planned to wear it with nude peep toe heels and a gold tennis bracelet that her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday.

Returning to the bathroom she turned off the water, slipped out of her clothes, and sank into the warm scented water with relish.

Hermione let her mind wander back to her last visit with her friends before she left for France.

* * *

Ginny had practically begged Hermione to let her throw her a small party at Grimmauld Place, before she left.

Hermione had tried her best to back out of the party. Not because she didn't want to see everyone, even though the thought of Ron and Lavender gave her pause, but because she knew that Ginny would try her best to pry out what was bothering her. Not to mention the fact that the last party had had less than desirable results.

Sure enough, twenty minutes after the party had started, and Ron and Harry had popped out to get more firewhisky, Ginny had bluntly asked "What's wrong with you lately?"

Hermione was hesitant to answer, and looking around, Ginny pulled her into the kitchen to talk privately.

Pushing her fringe behind her ear, the red haired witch stated, "You haven't been yourself since after Christmas break. I don't want to pry, but is it Ron? Do you still have feelings for him? I know that I'm his sister, and no one knows as much as I do how much of a prat he can be, but don't be afraid to talk to me. We are friends you know. As long as I'm with Harry, and that is going to be forever, we are going to be in each others lives. "

Hermione had been in a constant struggle over her secret. She wasn't a blabber mouth by any means, but she found that she needed to tell someone, and she knew that Ginny would keep her secret.

"It's not Ron, Ginny. Honestly, I'm happy that he has moved on, even if it is with Lavender. I still care about your brother and I want him to be happy, but I'm not in love with him anymore," she closed her eyes briefly.

"Come on, Hermione. I can see that you are about to burst and you seem, well not quite miserable, but definitely upset. Come on, tell Mama Weasley," Ginny joked.

The dam burst. Casting a Muffliato charm, for anyone nosy enough to listen in, Hermione said, "I slept with Blaise Zabini."

Ginny's mouth dropped open in shock. " _Blaise Zabini_? What? Okay, you _have_ to tell me how that happened."

That was what Hermione loved about Ginny. She never judged, and thank Merlin that she didn't go off on some tangent about Blaise's well known Muggle hating sensibilities.

"Okay, remember when we had the party here over Christmas?" At Ginny's nod she continued, "I was coming out of the loo when I heard voices coming down from hall. It was Lavender and Parvati. I didn't really feel like talking to them, but I heard my name mentioned, and my curiousity got the better of me. I shouldn't have listened, because I ended up hearing some things that I really would have rather not heard."

"What sorts of things? I love my brother, but if Lavender said anything about my family or you that I won't like I'll Bat Bogey that bitch to hell," Ginny said fiercely.

"No…no, it was about me," Hermione said and visibly saw _some_ of the ire leave Ginny's body.

"Lavender was going on and on about how I was probably frigid and how I'll end up as some spinster with twenty cats or something. I know I'm not frigid," she ended sheepishly. She had never gone into detail about her and Ron's sex life with Ginny before.

Ginny snorted. "Please, I know that just by sound. You and Ron really should have made sure that you cast a _Muffliato. Just_ because Mum and Dad weren't here didn't mean _someone else_ wasn't _."_ She giggled a bit at Hermione's very red face.

Hermione cleared her throat, embarrassed. "Anyway, it got me to thinking. I really hadn't spent much time doing anything fun. It had been just class, study, and bed for months, and really I was getting a bit bogged down by it. So I decided to do something outrageous; nothing big enough to end up in the Daily Prophet, but something for my own sense of accomplishment."

"So get to the part about the sex," Ginny urged _._

Rolling her eyes, Hermione continued, "I saw this ad in Witch Weekly about a masquerade ball and I thought to myself what the hell? I would go and have a mini adventure. Dance, drink, and party it up, with no one the wiser."

 _"_ What did you go as _?"_

 _"_ Honestly, it took me forever to find a costume. I looked in practically all of the costuming shops in London, until I finally found this small out of the way shop. I ended up buying this absolutely gorgeous belly dancer outfit. It was a blue skirt, and a gold coin bra. With it I had a gold mask and a blue cloak _."_

 _"You_ wore a belly dancer outfit _?"_

Hermione giggled despite herself. "Yes, I did. To tell you the truth I looked pretty damn good in it."

"Well I didn't doubt that. You always had it, I'm just surprised that you decided to flaunt it."

"Well, that mask went a long way toward boosting my confidence. Anyway, the ball was invitation only. When I got there, I was a bit scared, but I decided that since I had already went this far, I may as well do it big. The ballroom looked kind of like The Hall of Mirrors in France, but done in black and silver. The atmosphere kinda reminded me of Labyrinth."

At Ginny's puzzled look she added," It's this Muggle movie, but anyway the reference doesn't matter that much. So as soon as I got into the ballroom and took off my cloak I felt these eyes burning into me. They ended up belonging to a very sexy highwayman."

"Ah, so Blaise enters at stage left," Ginny quipped.

"Well, I didn't know that he _was_ Blaise then. He was just a very hot guy who spent the next few hours dancing with and chatting me up at a party. After a while, it was getting kind of late and he invited me to his house."

"Hermione Granger! You went home with some masked guy you didn't know?"

"I had my wand," Hermione replied defensively. "He seemed like a really nice guy, and if he wasn't, I could deal with it. After Voldemort and the Death Eaters, one wizard doesn't seem like too much of a challenge."

"There is that," Ginny acceded.

"So, we get to what he calls a villa, but is really was a blooming mansion. I don't think I had planned to have sex; really I was just going with the moment. He had a house-elf there that he was so sweet to. Not at all like the Blaise from school. He fed me breakfast and we ended up making out. The making out ended up in us having sex on his parlor floor. I didn't find out until the morning after that it had been Blaise the entire time," Hermione ended.

"So how did he react?"

"He didn't. I peeked under his mask, and when I saw who it was I got my arse out of there."

"Oh Merlin, so he still doesn't know who you are. That is going to make any future meetings pretty awkward."

"Not for _him._ Really, it's not like he and I run in the same crowds. He won't know anything, and I'm sure as hell not going to tell him," Hermione firmly stated.

Ginny leaned against the kitchen counter digesting the story.

Hermione braced herself for questions and was only slightly surprised when Ginny asked, "So tell me, how _was_ the sex, because his reputation notwithstanding, that bloke is scorching hot. Hermione, I wouldn't have thought that you had it in you. Anonymous sex. Very kinky, my girl."

Hermione sighed in defeat. "Just the thought of the sex makes my thighs go up in flames. I mean, wow, he must like read books or something because no offense, but it was _never_ like that with Ron."

Ginny held up her hands, "Okay... Okay, I really don't want to know about how Ron is in the sack. The acoustics I heard was enough," she said with a giggle and the girls burst out laughing.

* * *

Ripping herself from memory lane, Hermione rose from the tub and pulling the stopper, rushed to her room to get dressed.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been days since Blaise had been to visit his fiancée in France and he knew that if he didn't return soon, his mother would take action.

The control she had over him rankled considerably. He had had to talk fast just to return to London to oversee the release of his new game, The Trials of Hercules.

"Who cares about a silly game," Ophelia had stated bluntly. "Besides, if you don't become a bit more attentive to Jacqueline she may decide you aren't worth the effort. We wouldn't want that would we?"

Blaise had bristled in anger. The silly game, as she called it, was six months of tireless work. It was the first game that he himself had designed since Mirage's debut game, Merlin.

"Mother, regardless of what you think, I don't intend to let my business run to pot for your whims. I would like to still _have_ a business after I deal with this mess you have made."

Or until he found a way to wriggle out of the situation. It pissed him off that he was letting his fear of losing Prospero define his actions, but there it was. The fear had even successfully goaded him into proposing to Jacqueline, presenting her with a five carat Edwardian style oval cut diamond ring. He meant to make it look real, until he didn't have to pretend any longer. Perhaps his mother would be struck with an onslaught of latent motherly affection and rescind her blackmail? Not bloody likely. It would be easier to get Crabbe and Goyle to start a Muggle rap duo.

Jacqueline, herself, really had everything going for her. She was smart, engaging, and had a witty sense of humor. Not to mention that she was absolutely beautiful. She had large blue eyes surrounded by surprisingly dark sooty lashes. Her blonde hair was thick and lustrous. Her body was slender with just the right amount of curves.

Her kind personality and charm made him feel about an inch tall. He felt awful. It seemed that she had managed to pull from him some bit of chivalry that he hadn't known he possessed. It led him to the conclusion that he would have to make _her_ want to break things off, and he was finding that it was bloody difficult to think of a way to make her want to do that without hurting the sensitive witch.

He couldn't tell if she really cared for him or if it was just that she was in love with the idea of love. He hoped it was the latter. Maybe since she was practically a princess, she wanted the princess wedding with all the trimmings? Blaise was flabbergasted at the amount of detail that went into a wizarding society wedding. None of his mates were married yet, though Draco seemed on that course with Astoria Greengrass, so he hadn't realized the sheer amount of _things_ involved _._ A wedding cake _and_ a groom's cake? He wasn't even that fond of cake, so why did he need his own? At least he had until after her society debut before she sprung more wedding details on him. She wanted to meet and greet and make a splash before the wedding date was set. It was a bit unorthodox that she would be making her entrance already engaged, but at least it would give him more time to come up with a plan.

She deserved much better than what she was getting.

More than a wizard that still had lurid dreams about another woman. A woman with soft, jasmine scented skin, and a body made for wet dreams. He still wanked at her memory. He hadn't shagged another witch in months and to be honest, the break was completely out of character. Blaise had always been very sexual; a fact that many a Hogwarts witch could attest to. They had simply loved him. Blaise was an attentive lover that knew how to not to kiss and tell. He was content to let Draco be known as the Slytherin Sex God, but he knew he was the one that lingered on a witches mind.

The absence of sex, made him feel more than a little unsettled. It wasn't that he couldn't get it up. It got up just fine, it was his mind that was the problem. He simply didn't _want_ any other witch other than his sexy Jeanette.

It all pretty much boiled down to the fact that he was up shit creek without the paddle.

* * *

"Good evening, Monsieur Zabini," Ansel said as Blaise Apparated into the chateau.

"Good evening, Ansel. Is every one at the table already? I think I am just a bit late." He had forgotten his pocket watch on his bedside table, and judging by the sun outside he knew that he was cutting it a bit close.

"Oh non, Monsieur. You have time to get there and be seated before the first course is served. They are in the petit dining room."

Thanking the house-elf, Blaise walked down the white marbled floors to the small dining room used for intimate, more casual dining.

The walls were painted in a peachy, terracotta color. The dark oval table and chairs were set over a beige and golden Samarkand rug that softened the effect of the dark table.

Surprisingly, there were three occupants sitting and awaiting dinner.

Bernard smiled engagingly at his soon to be son in law, his plump cheeks exposing dimples. He was a short portly man that had a perpetually surprised look upon his face.

Jacqueline, wearing a mint green dress, with her hair pushed back with a simple headband smiled and rose to greet him. She kissed him softly on the cheek and led him closer to the table.

The last occupant was Hermione Granger, who stared at him with a shocked look upon her face.

Blaise raised his brow in question and saw her visibly change her composure. She looked good. She was wearing an ivory dress, sleeveless that showed off her slender, toned arms to advantage. Her insanely curly hair was pulled into a top knot and looked a bit damp. Her face was devoid of makeup, besides the blush that rose to her cheeks.

Blaise was pulled from his inspection when Jacqueline spoke, "Mon cher, I am so glad that you are 'ere. May I introduce you to my English tutor, 'Ermione Granger?"

Blaise bowed slightly. "We know each other already. That is to say we went to school together."

Jacqueline beamed. "Ah, so you are friends, no?"

"No," Hermione barked.

Jacqueline blinked.

That was odd, Blaise thought sitting down at the table. They hadn't exactly ran with the same people, but he had never really spoken to her. Draco had always had the biggest problem with the Muggle-born witch, but Blaise himself hadn't been back to school for over a year. What was with the strange reaction?

* * *

The prospect of a quiet dinner, while meeting her new employers had seemed enjoyable.

Her hair was still damp and drawn into a top knot when Hermione arrived to the main house. She had been running a bit late and only had about fifteen minutes to find the dining room. She headed toward where she was sure she had seen a large dining room earlier.

She took one step forward before jumping back and whipping her wand out before her.

"Oh, mademoiselle. Liddy is so sorry she startled you."

Hermione pushed back the surge of adrenaline and finally noticed that it was only a house-elf in front of her. The elf had large brown eyes and a dress made of what looked like a three or four white doilies sewn together.

"It's okay, Liddy," Hermione had sighed. "Just please make sure that you give me warning before you pop in." Hermione's reflexes were hard earned during the war, and she found that it was difficult not to act accordingly when startled.

"Please forgive me, I lost track of time. I had meant to be here to show you the way to dinner. If I may have your hand we can Apparate to the petit dining room," Liddy answered apologetically.

Grasping Liddy's hand, Hermione soon found herself outside a small dining room. Since the occupants hadn't noticed her yet, she had the pleasure of scrutinizing them before they could do the same to her.

She was so occupied with her perusal that she barely noticed when Liddy left.

Jacqueline was everything physically that Hermione was not. Blonde and tall with a runway model figure. She was wearing a chic, strapless, mint green dress that ended a bit over her thighs. Her hair was pushed from her face with a simple matching headband, the curling ends ending just above her derriere. The effect was an innocent yet sexy vibe.

Her father, Bernard, couldn't be more opposite. He reminded Hermione of the little animated clock in the Muggle movie Beauty and the Beast. He was short, portly, and Hermione was sure that his brown hair was a toupee.

Clearing her throat, she entered the room. Immediately, Jacqueline rushed forward and began talking to her in a burst of lilting French.

Hermione answered her questions one by one. "Yes, my trip was nice. I do like the cottage and I find it very comfortable. I agree that I think we are going to have fun together." She made sure to speak in English, silently letting the girl know that she would be speaking primarily in English.

Jacqueline blushed. "Oh, excuse me. You see, I do need your 'elp so much." Her accent was very thick. Hermione had her work cut out for her.

They all sat at the small oval table in the center of the room. Hermione was pleased that she wasn't having her first dinner with the Forsberg's in the austere, intimidating formal dining room.

The small dining room was cheery, with peachy walls and small table. The large windows showcased the setting sun on the chateau's gardens.

Jacqueline was charming. Thank goodness that we will be able to get along, Hermione thought to herself. She had been afraid that she would be dealing with a snooty, pampered, rich girl for the next two months, but was pleasantly surprised. Oh, Jacqueline was pampered, but it seemed that she didn't have that sense of entitlement that so many rich people cultivated.

They chatted amiably for a bit before Jacqueline abruptly stood, her face radiant with her smile.

Since she was facing the door, Hermione had to turn to see what had caused such a reaction.

The sight of Blaise Zabini was like a punch to her stomach. When Jacqueline introduced him as her fiancé, she wanted to run from the room. Belatedly, she noticed the huge ring on the girl's finger. How did I manage to miss that, she thought to herself. The bloody thing could probably sink the Titanic.

She forcibly removed the slightly struck expression from her face, managing to rasp out a no, when Jacqueline asked if they had been friends in Hogwarts.

Jacqueline looked nonplussed and Hermione quickly elaborated. "I knew who he was in Hogwarts, but we weren't what you would call friends. We were in different houses."

Blaise raised a brow at her simple explanation. So, she had chosen the easy explanation. Not the whole sordid deal of him being friends with Draco and Draco basically hating her guts.

Hermione was glad when the house-elves brought out loaves a fresh, crusty French bread and a bowl of sweet cream butter. She used the excuse to butter a piece of bread and stuff her mouth instead of participating in the conversation. Jacqueline had no problem keeping the flow of conversation going by herself.

Hermione wanted to shiver in delight at the sound of Blaise's deep voice as he answered Jacqueline's questions.

"Yes, my business dealings went well. I expect a nice turn of profit."

Jacqueline pouted. "You still 'aven't told me what it is you do. Is it illegal?" She looked a bit titillated at the prospect.

"Sorry to disappoint," Blaise replied dryly. "I just prefer to keep my business life business and my personal life personal," he ended with a grin toward the girl.

Hmm, so he likes secrets in his real life too, Hermione thought. She thought about dropping her doozy into his lap for a full second before dismissing the insane thought.

Damn her luck. Hermione was stuck here for the next two months tutoring Jacqueline and keeping the fact that she had shagged her fiancée secret from her _and_ the fiancée as well.

Blaise reached for a piece of bread, his hand slightly grazing Hermione's. A slight shudder went through her and her body felt sensitized. She was just so very _aware_ of him.

"Excuse me," he said politely a look of puzzlement on his face.

"Oooo, canapés," Hermione blurted out a bit too excitedly. She didn't even really like canapés, but after her inane outburst, she was forced to eat a couple. She suppressed her grimace at the taste of the anchovy butter.

"I am glad to see that you like French cooking," Jacqueline was saying.

Hermione was happy to grasp the straw that Jacqueline had just given her. "Oh yes, when I was a little girl my Grandmother and I would visit France during the summers. It gave me a nice appreciation of French cuisine."

The rest of dinner went by mostly silently on Hermione's part, though the food was excellent. Hermione mentally reminded herself to keep up her schedule of running in the mornings or she would be as fat as Millicent Bulstrode in no time.

"Would you like to go 'orseback riding with us in the morning? Blaise and I usually prefer to ride just after breakfast," Jacqueline said as they were leaving the dining room.

"Oh, I don't know how to ride," Hermione lied. There was no way that was going to be spending more time with Blaise before she came up with a game plan.

Jacqueline looked crestfallen for a moment before she perked. "Blaise is an excellent 'orseman. I'm sure you wouldn't mind giving 'Ermione a lesson would you?" She directed her question at the wizard.

"Not at all. I've given lessons before," he said in reply.

I bet you have. I'd love to take some "lessons" from you, a thoroughly naughty part of Hermione thought.

Hermione saw no way to get out of the outing and finally capitulated. "Okay, I'll see you both at breakfast. What should I wear? I didn't really pack anything for horseback riding."

"A pair of jeans and a sleeved shirt would be best," Blaise answered, yawning a bit. "If you don't mind ladies, I'd like to retire a bit early this evening."

"I will walk you to your room, mon cher," replied Jacqueline.

Hermione could see that the witch wanted to spend some time with her fiancée and with a murmured goodbye, she took her leave of them.


	6. Chapter 6

Blaise woke at eight thirty that morning with a headache. The very same headache that he had when he went to sleep. He had slept like the dead and felt the ache in his body. He probably hadn't moved at all while sleeping. It usually happened to him while sleeping in a strange bed. He had been visiting the chateau for months and still wasn't used to the bed. It was just too damn soft, and the bloody thing was huge. Orgy sized.

He rose from the bed, running a hand through his short curls. It was about time for a haircut. He would cut it as short as possible, but girls tended to like the curls, and he wasn't one to turn down a beautiful woman wanting to run her fingers through his hair.

What he really wanted was his own flat in town, but Bernard wouldn't hear of it and Jacqueline was more than happy to have her fiancé close.

Ophelia was ecstatic with the situation even going as far as saying, "Why don't you just knock the girl up? That would end her silly little debutante sensibilities. You could get married immediately and I would be out of your hair that much sooner."

Blaise had curled his lip in disgust. "As much as it would delight me to have you "out of my hair" as you say, I'm not going to knock Jacqueline up. This isn't nineteen fifty. There are spells against pregnancy. You might be in control now, but you don't get to control when I shag."

Shaking off the memory, Blaise headed to his adjoining bathroom. The hot water would help to remove the lingering muzziness from sleep. He adjusted the water to his preferred temperature, pulled off his grey boxer briefs, and stepped under the hot spray.

Leaning his head against the slowly warming tile, Blaise contemplated Hermione's strange behavior from the night before.

Blaise's group of friends in school hadn't treated the witch or her friends kindly, but Blaise himself couldn't remember an instance where he himself had been blatantly unkind. Mostly, he remembered being indifferent to the witch. Well, as indifferent as he could be to one of the best friends of the boy who lived. Being young, he was sure that he had said some off color things in jest, or because he thought that it was what he should say, but surely she didn't hold _that_ against him.

Looking back on her reaction from last night, it seemed that he had an _effect_ on the little witch. One that if he wasn't "engaged", he might like to pursue.

Blaise wasn't conceited, but he knew that he was handsome. Women had always come easily to him. He could even remember his mother's friends giving him the eye starting at age fifteen. He had always been a tall boy and very physically active, so he had looked more mature than your average fifteen year old. Not to mention, even though it wasn't known, that he was already a millionaire at that age. Many of his mother's jaded friends had made passes at him as soon as Ophelia turned her back. One particularly bold woman had lain in his bed wearing only a purple silk thong. _That_ situation had taken some delicate maneuvering. He had never taken any of them up on the offers. Anyone who was a friend of his mother wasn't anyone that he would want to shag.

And he had been shagging by then.

The summer of his fifteenth year, he had met a delightful eighteen year old Muggle in Venice. She'd had beautiful golden brown hair, and luminous green eyes. She hadn't minded that he was younger, not that he had mentioned the fact to her. They had traded smiles for over a week, before she finally made a pass at him.

Blaise had been too shy to make a move on her, regardless of her signals. At fifteen, he had snogged many girls, but hadn't gone all the way. She had to have known he was a virgin, and one day she had finally just hooked her arm around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

They made love for the first time in the back of the small flower shop where she worked. Looking back, he fancied that he had been a little bit in love with the beautiful Muggle. They spent an entire glorious summer together before she left for university. Despite their promises to keep in touch, he never saw her again.

Returning to school sexually aware, he and let Draco and the others assume that he had lost it to an older experienced witch instead of a green-eyed Muggle named Sofia.

Thinking of Sofia brought the memory of his brief encounter with Jeanette to mind with the inevitable result.

Sighing in frustration, he grasped his cock he stroked himself to a stunning climax, groaning out Jeanette's name into the steaming shower.

When he Apparated into the small dining room, he was surprised that only Hermione was eating breakfast. She was dressed much the same as he was in jeans, boots, and a black shirt, though hers was long sleeved.

Looking up at him with her big chocolate eyes she said, "Jacqueline is sick this morning. A flu she thinks. Monsieur Forsberg is going to be away on business for the next week. Something about his textile plant I believe."

"Oh," was all he said in response before sitting down and helping himself to eggs, bacon, and toast on which he spread a healthy amount of orange marmalade.

Hermione was nibbling on a piece of toast herself and drinking a glass of orange juice, a newspaper in her left hand.

Blaise, not being one to beat around the bush asked bluntly, "Is is going to be a problem for you? My being here?"

Hermione almost choked on her toast. She lowered her newspaper and grabbed her glass, chugging her juice. "What?" She said weakly. "I mean, why would it be?" she asked after clearing her throat.

Blaise raised one dark brow. "I assume it must have something to do with my friendship with Draco; or the fact that I was in Slytherin?"

Hermione scoffed. "School is over, and I don't spend my time thinking about Draco Malfoy."

He was puzzled. "Then we should get along well I suppose. We are going to be around each other for the next two months I'm told."

"Yes, two full months," Hermione said in a deadpan voice.

Blaise smirked. "Don't sound too pleased about the prospect. Do you mind if I call you Hermione? Calling you Miss Granger for two months is going to get pretty old. You can call me Blaise if you like."

"Of course you can," Hermione said smiling at him for the first time.

Standing, she asked, "Are you ready to get these horseback lessons going?"

Blaise spooned his eggs and last piece of bacon onto his toast. Folding the lot, he shoved it into his mouth. Talking around the food, he said, "Let's go."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Men. They were the same everywhere.

The Forberg's had an excellent stable. The outside was made of light colored limestone bricks, and while quite a bit newer than the chateau, managed to fit with the surrounding architecture. The inside was well-ventilated and warm with large high quality loose boxes. There was a team of human workers, squibs of course, that cared for the horses. There was also a full time veterinarian, Charles Martin, who was always on call in case of emergency. He had a well maintained clinic just a short walk from the stable.

Blaise thought so well of the stables that he had brought his favorite horse, a smoky black Thoroughbred stallion, named Hyperion to be stabled while he was in residence.

Blaise directed Hermione toward a gentle Arabian mare called Kizi. As soon as Hermione's eyes fell on the pretty bay horse, Blaise knew that the two would be fast friends.

Blaise stepped forward to help the witch ready the horse to ride, and was surprised when she brushed him off and started to tack up the horse herself. He smirked in amusement; seemed that the witch had forgotten that she said that she couldn't ride horses. Hmmm, perhaps I should call her on her lie, Blaise thought to himself, but dismissed the prospect. He didn't want the witch to dislike him, as least not any more than she already did or had.

He decided not to probe himself for the reasoning behind _why_ he didn't want her to dislike him. Instead, he turned to his own horse.

"Hello, my boy," he spoke quietly to Hyperion. The spirited horse nickered a welcome.

Hermione looked away from her own horse at the sound. Blaise was speaking quietly to his horse. The two were obviously familiar. The affection was evident.

It wasn't until she watched Blaise saddle his own horse that she remembered her stupidity. She could have slapped herself in the forehead in irritation. She wasn't supposed to know anything about horses.

Her lips thinned in displeasure. Why hadn't he said something?

Hermione's head tilted in contemplation, before she turned to finish saddling her horse. Perhaps he wasn't as much of a prat as she had thought. A few years ago, he probably would have jumped on the chance to call her on her lie.

What was different now?

She sighed. It was so tiring to pretend that everything was the same. At least he doesn't know me well enough to judge my behavior, she thought to herself.

Blaise had her tied up in knots. She couldn't figure him out and it frustrated her to no end. Hermione liked a good puzzle, but this was ridiculous.

What a tangled web, she thought.

"Are you ready?" Blaise's deep voice startled her from her reverie.

Nodding, she grasped her horse's reins and led the mare from the stables, Blaise following her quietly.

"So where do you usually ride?" She asked after they had mounted.

Blaise nudged Hyperion from a walk into a trot. "Well, Jacqueline prefers to ride through the countryside on the estate, but I like riding by the sea. The air seems cleaner there, especially in the morning."

Hermione smiled. "Let's ride by the sea then."

"Are you sure? It's a bit more rigorous than the country trail. I know that you are a first time rider," he said with a grin.

She had to giggle. "Okay, I guess I'm caught. I do know how to ride. I haven't placed in shows or anything like Jacqueline, but I'm a fair horsewoman."

Blaise liked her smile. "Well, I wasn't going to say anything. I figure that your reasons are your own, but I admit it's nice just to ride with you and not to instruct."

Hermione arched a brow, bemused. How very un-Slytherin of him to admit that, she thought.

The riding trail by the sea was beautiful, even if looking over the cliff did give one a vague sense of vertigo. The air did seem clearer. Taking in a deep breath, Hermione admitted to herself that it was probably just what she had needed.

She liked that Blaise didn't feel the need to fill the air with idle chatter. When she was able to not think of what had happened between them, his presence was actually _comfortable_.

They had been riding for about forty-five minutes before his voice broke through her thoughts. "Are you hungry? I feel like I could eat that boulder over there." He asked pointing toward a large boulder on the side of the trail. The thing looked like it weighed a ton, and Hermione giggled in spite of herself.

"Yeah, I think I could eat a little something."

Blaise smiled. "Great, I know just the place."

She thought that he would take her to some fancy brunch buffet in a pricey hotel, but was surprised when they tied up their horses outside of a small hole in the wall building. The outside of the building reminded Hermione of an old weathered saloon, like in one of the Muggle westerns her father was so fond of. She wouldn't have been surprised to hear the sound of spurs ringing against the wooden porch.

He smirked at her reaction. "I know that it doesn't look like much, but trust me, you'll be glad that we stopped here. Don't tell Ansel or any of the other house-elves, but Colette's crepes, makes the chateau's taste like dog food in comparison. The woman has ruined me. Any other crepes simply won't do."

"Then I guess I will just have to order some of these famous crepes," Hermione laughingly replied.

Once inside the small building they were shown to a little round table set with two chairs. The blue tablecloth perfectly matched the equally blue walls. There was white crown molding and snowy white candles inside of clear candle holders. The atmosphere seemed light and airy and was totally unexpected after the surprise of the building's facade.

A perky young red head came up to take their orders. Blaise and the girl talked amicably for a few minutes before he asked, "Hermione would you mind if I ordered for you? I promise that you will like it all. Unless you have any kind of food allergies?"

"No, I don't. Sure you can order for me, since you know the place."

Blaise ordered their food in rapid fire French that Hermione could barely keep up with. It irked her just a bit that he might be a smidgen better than her at the language, but she pushed the emotion away.

After the waitress, whose name was Cleo, came back with their drinks they talked amicably for another ten minutes.

It was the smell of the food that tore Hermione's attention from the conversation.

The crepes smelled heavenly. She could smell the cinnamon wafting in the air.

As soon as the plates were set on the table, she grasped her fork, cutting a bite into the tender crepe. Forking the bite into her mouth, her eyes closed in ecstasy. Mmmm apples, and cinnamon, topped in a delicious vanilla yogurt sauce. A dollop of real whipped cream with the slightest caramel flavor finished the scrumptious combination.

"Oh Merlin, Blaise. I think my mouth just had an orgasm," Hermione said unthinkingly. Her eyes blinked open. Why did I choose _that_ word, she thought.

Thankfully he seemed not to notice, and simply nodded. "I know right? It's just brilliant. Take a bite of that chicken-apple sausage," he added and smiled when she groaned in contentment.

After they finished their brunch, which Blaise insisted that he pay for, they took the long way back to the chateau, chatting the entire time.

There is something about this witch, Blaise thought to himself. She was more than the Gryfindor bookworm of Hogwarts. There was a mystery there, and despite everything that was happening in his life, Blaise was going to make it his business to find out just what that secret was.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione was lying on her bed, contemplating a mid-afternoon nap following a truly delicious lunch at the chateau, when the low chime of her magic mirror broke through the silence of her bedroom.

The little magic mirror, unlike the full length magic mirrors of yore, was actually a compact. The little red lacquered compact had been a going away present from Ginny.

It had taken Ginny finally buying it, and a matching one for herself, to convince Hermione that the method of communication was far better than the old letter and owl.

Hermione was unsurprised to find Ginny's name blinking on top of the compact, and flipping the lid open she murmured a perky hello.

"Don't you just hello me girl," the red headed witch said. Hermione could see the dirt on her face, and judging by the glimpses of dark green robes that the small mirror afforded, she deduced that Ginny had just finished Quidditch practice.

"You haven't called me in a fortnight, and that isn't like you. Something is going on. Now spill," Ginny was saying.

"It's okay. Nothing I can't handle," Hermione replied, with a huge completely fake smile plastered on her face.

Ginny's lips thinned. She turned toward a teammate off to the side saying, "I'll be in in just a bit, and yeah I still want to go for eats." Turning back toward the mirror, she said, "You're not fooling anyone, so you might as well tell me what's going on."

Hermione sighed and sat up from her reclined position. "Okay, for one, I don't really want Harry to know," rushing past Ginny's attempted protest, "I know...I know. You won't really have any intention of telling Harry, but it could come out in conversation, and two, this is something that I am still trying to figure out myself."

Ginny's mouth opened, her brows drawing together in contemplation. "Does this have anything to do with the whole Blaise thing?"

Hermione grimaced. "Not entirely, he's um...kind of...here."

Ginnys mouth dropped completely. "He's there with you now. Oooo, I'm sorry I interrupted..."

Hermione stopped her mid sentence. "No! No, he isn't here right now. Honestly, Ginny. Do you think I would answer the mirror if he was?"

Ginny giggled. "Probably not. At least I hope not, because if you did, you guys would really need to talk about some intimacy issues."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Anyway. He is here at the chateau, _and_ is engaged to Jacqueline."

"What the...! Oh, man. So you are avoiding him at all costs right?"

"I can't," Hermione groaned in frustration. "It's not like I can run from the room whenever he walks in. I didn't even _know_ that Jacqueline was engaged until the first night. It was like meet, greet, oh and here is my fiancé."

"Aw, that's rough." Ginny commiserated. "So, what is Jacqueline like?"

"Jacqueline is really nice. Not at all like I would have imagined. The girl could probably have any wizard that she wanted. She kind of reminds me of Fleur. Not Veela looks exactly, but as close as a fully human witch could get. The only thing that I don't like about her is how often she gets sick. Its like she has the worst immune system in the world. When she's sick I become Blaise's default companion."

"Ooo, the plot thickens. So how is it...um...hanging out with Blaise?" Ginny asked, one brow higher than the other, just a moment for a suggestive waggle.

"I'm not shagging the bloke, Ginny and actually, it's not bad at all. He's really smart. We talk about everything: world topics, literature, art, music. You know he can sing? Well, no, you wouldn't. How could you possibly know? He has such a smoky, rich voice, but is kind of embarrassed to sing in front of others. Its adorable, really," Hermione was rambling.

She stopped mid ramble at Ginny's voice. "Oh no, Hermione."

"What?"

"You're in love with him aren't you?" Ginny said wistfully.

"What? No. We're just friends. We enjoy each other's company. Merlin, Ginny, I haven't even told him that we slept together before. Not to mention the very pertinent fact that he is engaged to my employer."

"Hermione," Ginny sighed. "Those are all very logical points, but you are forgetting something. Your heart isn't logical in the least. The heart goes where it wants. Also, you never really dealt with the realities of your night with Blaise," Ginny reminded gently.

Irritation pricked Hermione. "Well, maybe that's why I didn't call you. I didn't feel like having a heart to heart Oprah moment with you."

Just as Ginny was about to ask who Oprah was, Hermione interrupted, "Not everyone has a perfect relationship like you and Harry," she added in a caustic tone.

Hurt flashed across Ginny's face. "Okay, whatever, Hermione. My relationship with Harry is far from perfect for one. And two, I know that you are upset and you probably don't mean half of what you are saying right now, so I'm gonna let you go. I'll call back in a few days, okay?"

The mirror blinked into darkness.

All the wind had gone from Hermione's sails. She couldn't believe that she had spoken to Ginny that way. They had never really gotten into a big argument before, and whenever they had disagreements, it had never been like this.

I'm going to have to call her back and apologize soon, Hermione thought to herself.

The problem was that Ginny was right. Hermione had had her head blissfully stuck in the sand, and she hadn't wanted to face the facts.

She _was_ in love with Blaise Zabini.

It was like the more that she got to know him, the better she liked him. Oh, he wasn't perfect by any means. He had an annoying habit of cracking his knuckles that drove Hermione insane. Also, he could be stubborn when thinking that he was right during a debate, returning to the arrogant mask she remembered from school, requiring her to tease a smile from him to smooth the look away.

It was the little things that she learned about him. The fact that he went crazy over caramels, and always had some on his person.

How he was surprisingly bashful about his beautiful singing voice.

Hermione knew that she was on thin ice, but whenever she tried to pull away, it only took one of his warm smiles to reel her back.

Jacqueline was decidedly unaware of the attraction between the two. Granted, the witch hadn't spent much time with them lately, but Hermione was amazed that the girl hadn't picked up on the vibes.

Jacqueline's behavior toward Blaise was lukewarm at best, and Hermione couldn't understand why.

Whenever the wedding plans were mentioned, Jacqueline's eyes would light up with all the excitement that was missing whenever she looked at her fiancé.

A custom wedding dress, aqua bridesmaid dresses the decision between wearing her hair up or down. Antique crystal goblets designed by Sidhe princesses. Real Slyhs to carry fairy lights at a night time wedding? It was enough to drive Hermione mad.

It was partially that lack of emotion on the witch's part that had allowed Hermione to push back her guilt while spending time with Blaise.

And she had spent entirely too much time with Blaise, even coaxing the wizard into seeing a showing of the Muggle film Casablanca in town. They had shared a large bucket of hot buttered popcorn, and Hermione had egged Blaise into drinking a coke, giggling at his look when the fizz hit his taste buds.

Blaise had loved the film, his only critical comment being, "If I were Rick, I never would have let Ilsa go. Maybe that's selfish, but there it is," he had said, his dark eyes looking into hers.

Hermione had known then that she was in over her head.

Excitement thrummed through her veins. She walked through the dense woods in back of the chateau.

* * *

It was late afternoon, but the sun was still brightly shining and warming the grass in the clearing where she was headed.

Once she reached the wildflower strewn glade, her brow crinkled in confusion. Everything was there. The blanket, basket, it was all there. _He_ was noticeably absent.

Suddenly, she was pulled into his embrace. He simply hugged her for a moment, before drawing her lips into a passionate kiss.

How she loved his kisses.

He nipped at her lips before easing back.

"I didn't think that you were going to make it."

"It wasn't easy, but you know that I would do anything to see you."

He smiled. "Come, have something to eat. I have your favorites."

They sat on the blanket, and he fed her olives, cheese, and soft white bread, washing it down with a nice sweet wine.

Kissing his lips softly, she reclined in total contentment.

"It's getting harder to come and see you," she said, one arm over her eyes blocking the bright sun. "They are starting to get suspicious, and I don't know what to say one day to the next."

He pulled her from the blanket and to his strong chest, resting his head in the crook of her neck, he murmured, "Why don't you just tell them the truth? That we are in love. Are you ashamed?"

"Oh, No. Never. I'm scared, Charles," Jacqueline said looking into the young veterinarian's bright blue eyes. "I'm afraid for both of us. That you will lose your job and that my father will hate me. He has had this plan for me to marry into British wizarding society since I was a little girl. My mother was a debutante, and he feels that since she married into simple country gentry that I was denied something. I just want everyone to be happy, but I feel like I'm being torn apart. I'm not ashamed of you. I'm ashamed that I'm not braver. I also feel really badly that Blaise is being used in this way."

She saw the glint of jealousy in Charles's eyes, and she reached to smooth the furrow from between his eyes. "You have nothing to worry about, cheri, he is a nice man, but _you_ are my love. I just wish that I was more worthy of you."

"I love you, Jacqueline. There isn't another woman in the world for me."

Charles had loved Jacqueline for years. First with an almost brotherly affection, and later, as she developed into a strikingly beautiful woman, into the deep romantic love that he now possessed.

At first, it was her age that stopped him. At eighteen, she was an adult in the eyes of wizarding society, but he had known her for years. He had been afraid that her somewhat flighty attitude would not bode well for a relationship, and there was the fact that he was seven years her senior _and_ he worked for her father.

It was only after she had become engaged to the darkly handsome Blaise that he found he was unable to keep his silence. He had been astounded, when after admitting his feelings to her, she had proclaimed that she had always loved him.

In her happiness over their mutual affection, she had forgotten their predicament for a moment.

He had watched tears fill her beautiful crystalline blue eyes and his heart had ached.

"What about Blaise and my father? We have to figure something out," She had said, fat tears running down her face.

They had yet to find a solution.


	8. Chapter 8

"So, I was wondering, how did you meet Jacqueline?" Hermione asked Blaise as she finally captured his king. "Checkmate," she added, smiling.

They were sitting in the chateau's library. Jacqueline was upstairs, sick again with strep throat apparently. Hermione couldn't understand why the girl didn't keep more potions on hand, and since she didn't have the proper herbs, Hermione couldn't even assist her in brewing medicine. She spent more time with Blaise than his own fiancée did. Not that she minded spending more time with Blaise, but it was becoming a habit. She didn't wish anything ill on Jacqueline, but she also didn't mind enjoying the benefits of the girl being away.

Blaise had suggested a friendly game of chess after he had found her curled in one of the library's big squishy chairs, reading Jane Eyre. It was raining pretty heavily outside, and instead of a walk or a horse ride, they sat at a small table. A crackling fire took the small bit of chill out of the air, and added a touch of ambiance to the rather austere room.

Blaise looked away from the board, meeting her brown eyes. "Um, Well," he said, stalling a bit, wondering how much to tell her. "My mother introduced us," he finally said, "Bernard and Ophelia are former business acquaintances." He didn't add that that Bernard had actually been a business acquaintance of Ophelia's, first husband's cousin, and that he was actually under the impression that Ophelia was a decent sort.

"You call your mum Ophelia?" Hermione asked raising a brow.

He shrugged, raising his glass of water to his mouth. "Ophelia isn't your run of the mill mum."

There is more to that story, Hermione thought before saying, "Well, that's only part of what I want to know. When did you fall in love?"

Blaise sputtered on the drink of water he had just taken. Coughing a little, he answered with a hoarse voice, "We just had similar interests I suppose. It just seemed like the thing to do." It bothered him a bit that he didn't feel ready to tell her the whole story. They had become rather close. He fancied that they were friends, at least as friendly as you could get while engaged to one witch, but wanting to shag another. The problem, besides the engagement and blackmail, was that he found that he wanted more than friendship with Hermione. More than just a shag. He actually _cared_ about her. A month ago the thought would have had him running for the hills, but surprisingly he was actually _okay_ with the feeling. Even if he didn't want to place the correct name on it.

Hermione was disappointed in his answer. Oh, she didn't _want_ him to say that he was in love with Jacqueline, or even that he was in serious lust with the girl, but she did wonder at why he wanted to get married so young.

Hermione was Muggle-born after all, and despite her many years living within the wizarding world, she still found it odd when people married right out of Hogwarts. It was equal to being married right after secondary school, a thought that she had never entertained for herself. Even when she had been with Ron, she hadn't contemplated marriage happening until she was at least twenty-three, and now she didn't know if it would ever happen. There wasn't much to be said about being in love with a man already engaged to another woman.

"I'm sorry, it's not really my business. I just wondered," she said. And she really did wonder. Jacqueline wasn't a really a reliable source, even when discussing her own engagement. It was almost like she was playing a part. Hermione couldn't probe her for any answers about Blaise for long before she changed the subject, yammering on about a wedding detail or some other nonsense. The girl was terribly vague about what she did say, or perhaps embarrassed that she didn't know much about Blaise.

The atmosphere in the library had gotten a bit awkward. Standing up, Hermione said, "Do you feel like a snack? We still have about three hours until dinner."

Blaise stood, stretching a bit. "I wouldn't mind one. What do you feel like?"

"Puppy Chow," Hermione said with a grin.

Blaise looked disgusted. "You want the house-elves to feed us dog food?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, I don't want the house-elves to feed us dog food. I don't want them to feed us anything. We are going to make it ourselves, and Puppy Chow is not dog food. You'll like it, I promise," she said grabbing his hand and pulling him from the room.

Apparating to her cottage with Blaise in tow, she went to the cupboard. Pulling out a box of Chex, a jar of peanut butter, and some confectioner's sugar, she sat them on the small kitchen island. Turning to her fridge she grabbed a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips.

From the other side of the island, Blaise eyed both the ingredients and her with suspicion. "I'm not sure about this, Hermione."

She laughed a bit. "Just trust me. Or are only Gryffindor's blessed with courage?" She asked saucily.

Well, that stung a bit, Blaise thought. She had neatly insulted both his manhood and his house in one fell swoop.

It was not to be borne. Deciding to put her in her place, he decided to do more than watch, he would help. "How can I help?" he asked, chuckling a bit at her look of shock.

"Um, well I guess you can get the zip lock bag ready for me," she said looking at him with one brow raised.

"Zip lock?"

"Oh, yeah. You wouldn't know what that is. Look in the cupboard. It's a box labeled Zip lock."

He walked to the cupboard and removed the blue box. Freezer bag? Pulling one of the clear bags out, he pried the top loose and pinched it back together. Hmm, nice, he thought, walking back to Hermione and placing the bag on the island.

"Oh, can you reach up and grab a saucepan for me? I hate that the pot rack is so high in here, and you are so tall that I can maintain my dignity by not standing on a chair," she said with a giggle.

He easily reached for the pot, setting it on the counter beside the zip lock bag.

"So, how is this made?"

Hermione emptied the chocolate chips and spooned peanut butter into the pan. She didn't measure, she just eyeballed it. In potions she was strict about her measurements, but while cooking Hermione preferred a laid back approach.

"Basically, you just melt chocolate and peanut butter together," she said adding the pot to the stove over low heat. "When it's melted, you stir in the cereal. Can you put some powdered sugar in the zip lock?"

Opening the box of sugar, he poured a good amount into the bag. "So, I assume that the sugar is so your hands don't get sticky?" he asked.

"Pretty much, even though when you taste how good these are you won't mind if they are a little messy," she said, smiling.

When the peanut butter and chocolate mixture was completely melted together she added the cereal, stirring to coat the little squares. When she was satisfied that they were coated, using a large spoon she added the cereal to the zip lock bag.

"I'll let you shake them. Just make sure that the bag is all the way-" He was already vigorously shaking the bag, and when a blast of powdered sugar hit his face Hermione valiantly tried to restrain her laughter, but the look of slack-mouthed shock on his face was too much. The giggles spurted past her lips. Slapping a hand against her mouth, she tried to muffle the peals of laughter to no avail.

"Here," she said still giggling, and reached out to pinch the bag completely closed.

Blaise tried to look menacing, but seeing his reflection in one of the hanging pots, he surrendered to laughter as well, his rich chuckle filling the room.

After he finished shaking the cereal, Hermione ran a dishtowel under warm water. Reaching toward his face, she gently wiped away the sugar. Their eyes connected, the tips of her fingers touching his clean shaven face.

Hermione cleared her throat and stepped away from him, trying to clear away the faint scent of the sandalwood cologne he wore. The smell that she remembered so well. She wanted to rise to her tip toes and bury her face in his neck and smell the scent against warm skin, and to kiss his strong jawline.

"I'm afraid that there isn't anything to be done for your shirt," she said, her voice a bit husky. The sugar had done a number on his black shirt, spotting it with white all over. "Unless you take it off, and let me wash it."

Blaise's eyes darkened a bit. He contemplated taking off the shirt, but he didn't think his control could withstand it. "Um, I think it will be okay."

Slightly disappointed, Hermione said, "Well, the puppy chow is done. Come sit on the couch."

Moving to the couch, she opened the bag and reached in, pulling out one sugar coated square. She pushed it toward Blaise's mouth.

Slightly hesitant, he leaned his head back dodging the morsel.

"Come on, just try it," she said.

He opened his mouth to protest, and she took the opportunity to shove the bite into his mouth.

Chewing, his eyes widened. "Hermione, these are brilliant!" He reached into the bag, grabbing a handful he shoved them into his mouth.

Hermione decided not to tell him that his mouth was covered in sugar. It was actually kind of cute, and was a delightful contrast to his usual perfectly groomed look. "I told you. From this point on, you should always trust me in any and all culinary adventures," she quipped, not realizing that she had implied that there would be more 'adventures'.

He only nodded in agreement, reaching into the bag once more. "I don't get it though. Why are they called Puppy Chow?"

Hermione reached into the bag. She thought that she had better get some before he polished off the entire bag. Crunching on the cereal, she said, "I actually don't know. When I was in primary school I had an American teacher. Year Two. Her name was Ms. James. She made them once for the entire class. I think she said she learned it in Girl Scouts." At his inquiring look she added, "Girl Scouts are a Muggle organization for girls. A way to meet friends and learn skills. I don't know a lot about them as I never was one."

"Hmm, well these are really good, despite the disgusting name," he said smiling. "Muggles do come up with interesting things."

"I'm surprised that you think so. That isn't a notion that you hear from many purebloods," she said looking at him.

He grimaced. "I don't hate Muggles or Muggle-borns, Hermione. Look, I know that I wasn't the nicest bloke in school, but I'm not that person anymore. Life, and well, circumstances have changed me."

"So, are you ever going to tell me about the mysterious business ventures that you leave for, staying away for days on end?" Hermione asked changing the subject. She was beyond curious about his 'business'.

"Well, I like to maintain a bit of intrigue. Otherwise, people lose interest. Then my entire reputation goes to pot. We can't have that can we?" he quipped.

Hermione recognized an evasion when she heard it. Sighing, she decided not to probe. "Well, I could use a drink. How about you?"

"Yes. What do you have?"

Looking in the refrigerator she called back, "I have milk, spring water, apple and orange juice, and cola."

"I think I'll have water, I've had enough sweet for a while."

"Really, Mr. Caramel? I'm shocked," she said looking back at him with a grin.

He chuckled.

Returning with two cold glasses of water she handed one to him.

He took a sip then asked, "Well since you have asked me question after question, maybe I can ask a few?"

Settling back into the cushion she said warily, "Okay, but I reserve the right not to answer. "

"Fair enough. So, why are you here? I would have thought that you would be at Uni, or living it up in London or something. Surely spending time with Potter and Weasley?"

"Um, well I just felt like a change. I don't know, honestly, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and bogged down by school. It was difficult decision, but I had decided that I was going to take a break when Headmistress McGonagall contacted me. She is friends with Bernard. She thought of me, since I speak a few different languages, and honestly, I needed the change." she evaded. Not like I could just tell him that sleeping with him turned my mind into goo, she thought.

He tilted his head in contemplation. In Italian, he asked her how many languages she spoke.

In perfectly pronounced Italian she replied that she spoke French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and of course, Italian.

Blaise was impressed. "Well, I'm glad that you decided to come here. You have given me a much needed break from boredom." Realizing what he had just admitted he hastily added, "Not that Jacqueline is boring. The girl is just sick all the time," he ended lamely. It wasn't sporting to publicly admit that one found one's fiancée a bore. He felt bad. Jacqueline was just so young. Even though they were of a similar age, it seemed like there was a gulf between them. A gulf labeled experience. Not to mention that Jacqueline wasn't the brightest girl ever.

Hermione only hummed a bit in thought. "So, that's all you have to ask me? I would have thought that you had more questions."

He reclined a bit against the couch. "Oh, I do. So, are you still with Weasley? Last I heard you two were still joined at the hip. Not that my gossip is very up to date." Draco, his usual informant on all things Golden Trio, had actually found more to do with his life, like being wound around Astoria Greengrass's little finger.

Hermione looked uncomfortable for a minute. "No, Ron and I aren't together anymore. He is actually with Lavender Brown. They seem very happy."

Blaise's face scrunched a bit in irritation at himself. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

"Its fine," she assured him. Rallying, she tilted her head a bit and smiled. "Why so interested, Mr. Zabini?"

He actually blushed a bit. "Um...Well. I'm not...I was just curious."

"Okay," she said. Still smiling, she reached for her glass and sipped a bit of water.

Blaise was suddenly nervous, which was _completely_ odd for him. Standing quickly, he sat down his glass. "Well, I think I should head back. Thanks for the Puppy Chow. I enjoyed it."

Hermione frowned. "Okay, well I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said walking him to the door, where he promptly Apparated, _without_ a goodbye.

She opened the door. Looking out at the driving sheets of rain, she sighed. "It doesn't look like it's going to let up. Oh, well. I need to call Ginny with a _very_ overdue apology," she said out loud, breaking the relative quiet of the room. Talking to herself had never been a habit that she was able to break.

Just as she was about to close the door, she noticed a hooded figure sprinting toward the veterinary clinic. It looked suspiciously like Jacqueline's forest green rain coat. Now what was she doing out in the _rain_ with strep throat, Hermione thought; and to the clinic of all places.

Being curious in nature, Hermione reached for her own blue raincoat, pulling it from the coat hook near the door.

I guess I'm going to find out, she thought to herself, and stepped out into the rain.


	9. Chapter 9

Blaise didn't drink as a rule, but there was one day a year when he got royally pissed; the anniversary of his father's death.

Raide Zabini had been a troubled man, but an excellent father. He had been a largely built man with mossy green eyes, and always seemed to have a laugh ready to spill from his lips. Blaise's earliest memory was of sitting on his father's shoulder, and feeling as if he were on top of the world.

Raide, despite his aristocratic upbringing, had been a modest man. He had had no thought against kneeling in the dirt with his servants to perfect the lush gardens of his home in Italy. Villa dei Venti, Villa of the Winds, was his most favorite of homes bequeathed to him by his father.

The fact that Raide had been such a good man made the reality of his death all the more tragic.

His father had died dueling. Raide had managed to kill his rival, but had died himself of wounds from battle.

Raide had been his only family besides an increasingly absent mother. In his eleven year old mind, he imagined that his father had had his reasons. Even at his tender age, he knew that it had something to do with Ophelia. He was not surprised, but still completely shattered, to learn that his father had died because Ophelia had taken a lover. The man that would became her next husband, in fact.

Ophelia had never troubled herself with her small son. Blaise had even overheard the selfish witch once saying that she wished he had never been born. Oh, but never in his father's presence. Raide had been an intelligent man, but had had blinders over his eyes regarding Ophelia. He never seemed to see the witch's faults, only her beauty. She had had his father wrapped around her finger.

Ophelia was an excellent actress, pretending to adore her son before Raide, and shunning him as soon as his father's back was turned. With a child's wisdom, Blaise had always felt that his mother didn't like him. It had bothered him, but his father's love had been a balm to the child. They had spent long summer's together fishing, hiking, and riding horses. Raide had always made time for Blaise, even postponing the frequent business trips and meetings that his shipping business required.

Blaise, upon learning of his father's death, turned from being a laughing child into a small adult seemingly overnight. His arrogant mask perfected.

Blaise couldn't deal with his current situation. In spending time with Hermione, he had even forgotten what day it was. Upon his return to his room, he had chanced to glance at his calender: May third. Grief had hit him directly between the eyes. He had jotted a note on a scrap of paper, barely realizing what he wrote, and then Disapparated on the spot. He felt awful, like the worst of sons. Spending time playing games of wizards chess, walking the grounds of the chateau, and making Muggle treats like puppy chow instead of remembering that it was the anniversary of the day his mother had coldly told him that his father was never coming back.

He soon found himself in his flat in London, a half empty bottle of vodka dangling from one hand. He didn't worry that he would be disturbed; only one person, his lawyer, knew that he owned it. It was a decently sized dwelling, on the third level of one of his warehouses, and other than his villa in Italy, the place where he felt most comfortable.

The only other time he felt a similar sense of ease was when he was with Hermione Granger. The witch had managed to burrow past his common sense, and into his heart. Now that she was there, she didn't seem inclined to leave. He couldn't deny it any longer. He loved her and he couldn't make it stop.

How could he love her properly when he wasn't even man enough to get past his fear?

He raised the bottle to his eye, staring down inside to the clear liquid. There were no answers there, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying to drown away the confusion.

Hermione hadn't survived the war without learning stealth.

She watched from a safe distance as Jacqueline went through front door of the clinic, causing the tiny bell over the door to ring. The door was unlocked, but the windows were dark, the staff gone for the day.

Hermione crept to the door, grimacing at the mud that caked her ankle boots. One hand braced against the chill metal door, she slowly edged sideways peeking through the door. The overcast sky helped to make the inside of the building darker, but she could see Jacqueline walking through a doorway toward the back where security lights cut through the dimness.

Her curiosity piqued, Hermione walked around the building to the back door. She tried the knob, and found it unlocked. Slowly easing the door open, she tiptoed into the clinic.

The door that Jacqueline had entered seemed to belong to an office. Hermione eased down the hall, grateful of the rubber mats on the floor that muffled the squelching of her wet boots.

The door was partially closed, but Hermione could just see into the small office. Her hand slapped to her mouth in shock. Shock that quickly transformed into anger.

Jacqueline was inside the office straddling Charles Martin, the veterinarian. The couple hadn't wasted time. Their mouths were fused together in a passionate kiss. Jacqueline's shirt and bra was carelessly tossed on the floor. Her jeans and heels being the only items of clothing she wore. Heels that were beyond impractical for the weather, Hermione thought in irritation.

Suddenly Charles moved, startling Hermione and she backed further into the hall. She only caught a glance of the man laying the girl back on his desk.

Hermione took the opportunity to escape, literally shaking with anger and shocked disgust.

Once back in her cottage, she reached for her magic mirror with a trembling hand. Rubbing a thumb across the surface of the mirror, she spoke Ginny's name.

The tiny mirror filled with red smoke as it tried to connect. The smoke faded and Ginny's face appeared.

"I should have just let my mirror ring," Ginny said, obviously still hurt from their last conversation. The witch was sitting in her pajamas on the couch in Grimmauld Place, her red hair in a lopsided knot. Hermione could hear Harry in the background talking to Ron, their voices too low to make out.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, the pressure finally allowing a few tears to slide down her face. "Ginny, I'm really sorry I was a bitch to you. You didn't deserve it at all."

Ginny's face softened. "Accepted. What is going on, Hermione?" She asked in concern, walking from the room and shutting the door behind her.

"My life is total shit. I'm so confused and I don't know what to do. I just saw Jacqueline practically having sex." Hermione ran a hand through her hair, tossing the humidity enhanced curls.

"You saw Blaise and Jacqueline? I'm sorry, that had to have been hard."

"It wasn't with Blaise. It was worse. "

Ginny's brow crinkled in confusion. "Worse?" Hermione watched the conclusion click on the witch's face. "Oh Merlin! You saw her with another guy?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "She spends the absolute least time with him, and now I see just how "sick" she was. He deserves better," she ended vehemently.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to talk to her about it tomorrow. I need to know what she is doing. I can't let Blaise just marry her. He would be miserable. She doesn't know him like...," Hermione's voice trailed off.

"Like you do?" Ginny finished.

Hermione sighed. "It's not about me. It's about Blaise's happiness. I'm going to tell her that I think she should either set Blaise free or break things off with Charles. That's the guy she is cheating with. He works as a veterinarian in the clinic on the grounds."

"What about your job?" Ginny asked.

"I don't care. I really can't be here anymore. I'ts not healthy. I can't stay here hoping that Blaise will suddenly be hit by Cupid's arrow and fall for me," Hermione said softly. "I don't want to go back home yet. Do you think Harry would mind if I stayed at Grimmauld Place for a while? I don't think I can deal with my mother's questions right away."

"Of course not. Hermione, you are family. You are always welcome here. Hermione...do you mind if I talk to Harry about this. Not you staying of course...but he is worried about you. I don't think you give him enough credit, and you aren't as good an actress as you think. He can handle knowing about Blaise. Besides, it might give him more to think about other than how I'm decorating the house," Ginny quipped.

Hermione giggled despite her sadness. How she loved her friends.

* * *

The next morning Hermione woke before five o'clock, having tossed and turned the entire night. She packed all of her belongings and walked through the small house murmuring cleaning spells in her wake. She showered and dressed in her most comfortable pair of jeans paired with a plain white tee-shirt. At seven, she Apparated outside the small dining room and was gratified to find Jacqueline sitting alone, nibbling on a wedge of toast and staring into space.

Her stomach churning with unease, she paused in the doorway. She cleared her throat. Receiving no response, she stiffened her spine and walked into the room, crisply calling out a good morning.

Jacqueline jumped startled. "Oh, good morning, 'Ermione," the witch said with a smile.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "How are you feeling? You sure got over strep throat fast. Where is Blaise? Or do you even know?" Hermione tried to mask her hostility, but it managed to creep into her voice.

Jacqueline looked confused. "Blaise left a note. 'E is in 'is flat in London. Something about business. And I don't think I really 'ad strep. That medi-witch was young. She probably diagnosed me wrong. I feel good today."

The gall! Hermoine wanted to scratch the gir'ls eyes out. She was finished with the games. "Okay, let's just stop evading here. I know that you weren't sick yesterday. I saw you."

Jacqueline's eyes went wide and her face paled. "What do you mean? I was in bed all day. Ask anyone."

Hermione's lips thinned in disgust. "Nice try. The house-elves will say whatever you want them to. Let's not quibble. I saw you with Charles Martin. How could you do that to Blaise?"

Jacqueline stood trembling, defensive. "What does it matter to you anyway? 'E is _my_ fiancé not yours."

That stung. "I care because he is a decent man who deserves better. You should be ashamed. If you don't want him then set him free."

"It doesn't concern you. You would do well to remember your place. You are in my employ and if you want to remain employed, you will shut your mouth," Jacqueline said with venom dripping from her voice.

Hermione pushed her plate away and stood. "Fine, then I don't work for you anymore," she said, walking from the room.

"You are under contract! You can't leave," Jacqueline said from behind her, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

Hermione stopped, turning back. "So? Sue me then."

Jacqueline's bravado evaporated. "What are you going to do," she asked in a small voice.

"The right thing," she said before Disapparating from the hall.

Back in the cottage, she called for a taxi, grateful that the place even _had_ a working Muggle phone.

Twenty minutes later, she was speeding away from the chateau and all of the happy memories she had made there.

* * *

It had been a tiring day. The emotional turmoil, the ferry back, settling into Grimmauld Place, and pretending that she was still in France whenever her mother called had contributed to her exhaustion.

She had wanted to go to Blaise right away, but Harry had put is foot down. He sat her down and demanded to be told the truth. She had finally broken down and told her story.

The wizard had run a hand through his messy black hair. "Hermione, you are like the sister I never had and I love you. I will support your relationship with any man that loves and treats you properly," he finally said quietly.

Hermione, overcome, had leaned forward and drawn him into a tight hug. "Thank you," she breathed.

Harry's mouth quirked a bit. "I don't get why it took you so long. I know that we aren't very old, but we stopped being children long ago."

"I was worried about the pureblood thing honestly. Blaise was so different in school. Not to mention the fact that it took me weeks to wrap my head around it. I was in denial for a long time," Hermione said.

"I don't let that pureblood superiority shite bother me anymore, Hermione. If you say that he is different I then I trust your judgment. So you are just going to go over and tell him everything?" Harry asked.

"If I have to," Hermione said steel in her voice.

"We are going to be there for you whatever you decide. And don't worry about Ron. I'll talk to him. I don't think that it will go as badly as you think. He's pretty happy with Lavender. I think it has mellowed him a bit," Harry said.

"Thanks," Hermione said. Finally looking around, she noticed that the walls were painted a loud mustard yellow. "So...um. Ginny told me that she was doing some redecorating," she said trying to summon a smile at the hideous color.

Harry only grimaced.

Hermione vaguely remembered Blaise mentioning the address of his flat in conversation he hadn't realized she had overheard, but it took her a few stops before she finally Apparated to the right place. She hoped that he was still there and that Jacqueline hadn't made up some story already. She would wager that the witch hadn't thought of one yet. She wasn't the smartest girl in the world.

Hermione was surprised when she finally stood in front of the flat. It was a warehouse made of red bricks with the small windows on the lower two levels, and larger ones on top. She figured that he was at home, because golden light shone through the cracks of the blinds that covered the window.

She tried the large metal front doors. They were locked and she couldn't see past the frosted glass set into them. The glass had a symbol etched into it: a black triangle with a stylized letter M that seemed slightly familiar.

Hermione, frustrated was about to Apparate back to Grimmauld place, when she noticed a metal stairwell on the side of the building.

Mounting the stairs, she reached a good sized wooden door. There weren't any windows on this side of the building, and only a small light over the door served to dispel a portion of the darkness.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione knocked on the door.

"Fuck off!"

That was definitely Blaise's voice, Hermione thought. Determined, she knocked on the door harder.

The door was suddenly ripped open, "I thought I said fuck─." He stopped. "Hermione, what are you doing here," his voice was slightly slurred.

Hermione started a bit. That wasn't the welcome that she had expected.

Blaise sighed, and pulled her inside where Hermione finally got a good look at the wizard.

He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed. There was a dark stubble that had grown on his face, and he hadn't bothered to shave it.

"Oh Merlin, Blaise. What is wrong with you?" she exclaimed.

Blaise laughed cynically. "Life, Hermione. That and I'm bloody pissed."

"But you don't drink, right?" Hermione asked, worried.

"Today I do, but enough about me. Tell me; how did you find me? Only one person knows about this place, and I know he sure as hell didn't tell you," Blaise said walking across the flat to his refrigerator. From the freezer, he removed a frosty bottle of vodka and proceeded to pour a good amount into a tumbler.

"Like some?" he asked motioning toward her with the bottle.

Hermione's nose wrinkled. "No, and it looks like you have had more than enough."

She took the time to glance around the open planned flat. Blaise had large black leather furniture and the place was all glass and metal. A far cry from his home in Italy, but somehow still reminiscent of the man. Her gaze settled on a steel table set against the wall. It seemed loaded down with pieces of crystal.

I wonder what he is doing with all of that, she thought, but she forced her curious mind back to the matter at hand.

"I didn't mean to disturb your privacy, Blaise, but I have to talk to you about something," she drew in a breath and continued. "Jacqueline is cheating on you. I saw it with my own eyes."

Blaise's eyes widened a bit, then he literally shouted with laughter. "Oh that is rich. My day just keeps getting better."

Hermione was shocked. "Don't you care?"

He shook his head. "Even if I did, there isn't anything I can do about it."

"What do you mean? Of course you can do something about it. You can leave her!"

"No, I'm not going to leave her," Blaise stated simply.

Hermione's shoulders drooped. "You love her that much?" she asked quietly.

"No, I don't love her at all. That isn't how it works when one is in my position," he said walking to the divan and sitting down with a sigh.

Hermione sat down next to him. "Blaise, you deserve so much better than her. A solid relationship with someone who can love you."

He looked into her eyes, his own dark eyes sad. "Love isn't something meant for me."

"Yes it is. You can have it if you want it," Hermione said, her meaning quite clear.

He closed his eyes. She was ripping him bare and she didn't even realize it. "That only works if the love is mutual," he lied.

Hermione flinched. "I...I know we never said anything, but I know you feel it. I can _feel_ that you feel it." She grabbed his hand. "I have to believe if it's this strong for me that you feel it too."

He slid his hand away from hers. He ran his hand through his hair, weary. "Go home, Hermione."

Hermione wasn't ready to quit fighting yet. "Do you remember what happened on Christmas? How you met a girl at a party. You waltzed with her and spent hours talking." She looked down. "You made love to her," she finished quietly.

Blaise was shocked. "Jeanette?" he breathed.

Looking into his eyes, she raised a hand and smoothed the wrinkle of confusion from his brow.

"You don't have to settle for a false love, with a false girl, when you can have the real thing. I love the mysterious man that I met that night. I love man who can't stand to lose a debate. I love how you go mad over anything sweet. I love your voice. I love how your dark eyes, seem endless, but most of all, I love the heart that you try so hard to hide," she said leaning toward him, the last words breathing against his lips as she took them in a soft kiss.

He reached between then and slowly pushed her away. "Hermione, I'm sorry, but I can't do this. I'm engaged. You have to leave."

She felt like he had just ripped out her heart and stomped on it. Tears fell from her eyes, and she began to sob. She rose, and with one final look back at him, she Disapparated.


	10. Chapter 10

"So, I was thinking that we could 'ave the wedding at your 'ome in Italy," Jacqueline said.

They were sitting in the posh Aspen dining room at The Westbury Mayfair Hotel. The room was smaller than the more spacious main dining room, only seating about sixteen guests. Renting the room had come at a hefty price, not to mention that all the guests had to arrive in Muggle attire. The hotel was located near the prime shops on Bond Street, and after weeks of Jacqueline's whining, he had finally agreed to having an engagement party there.

"Absolutely not," Blaise said.

"Why not? I 'ave 'eard that your villa is simply beautiful. It would make a great venue for the wedding," Jacqueline pouted. The expression marred the almost Nordic beauty that she possessed. She was wearing a Milly pink almond rossette dress. The dress was a deep rose pink, strapless, with a sweetheart neckline and accented with a slim black ribbon around the waist tied in a bow in front. The skirt was made of many raw edged rosettes and on her feet were black platform pumps. A diamond necklace and drop earrings completed her look. Her hair was looped into a high bun, reminding Blaise of a ballerina. She was a beautiful girl.

Too bad that he didn't love her, and she was a cheater.

"My home is under renovation. It won't be completed for months I imagine," Blaise lied. He didn't want her in his home. It would feel like a betrayal. Blaise was dying inside. He felt like a raw wound, and every moment he spent with Jacqueline was like a squeeze of lemon juice pouring over his injury, with Ophelia as the added salt.

"When did you decide this? Recently? It couldn't 'ave waited? Oh, Merlin. Now I will 'ave to look for churches I suppose. They will be the only things to do. Oh, well Father will pay for it," the witch finished brightly.

The nerve. Blaise chuckled in bitter humor. When would she find the time? Most of her extra time was spent with Charles.

The first day that he had returned to France after Hermione's revelation had been pure torture. He felt like the lowest thing on her. He had savaged her. Basically telling her that he didn't love her had been the hardest thing he had ever done. The only thing that had broken his facade, and reduced him to the tears he hadn't been able to cry when his father died.

Jacqueline had tiptoed around him for almost a week, visibly relaxing over time when he didn't say anything about her affair. Blaise didn't know whether the witch assumed that he didn't know or didn't care. She had made up an excuse about Hermione's abrupt departure, stating that the girl had had a family emergency and wouldn't be returning. Bernard had blustered about the breach of contract, but had relented when Jacqueline talked him down. The witch probably didn't want to air her dirty laundry, Blaise had thought.

"I'm sorry. I had put the renovations off long enough, and frankly they needed doing," Blaise continued.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure that I can think of something else. We 'ave a plenty of time. The season starts soon, and I won't want to seriously pursue venues until midway. 'Ow else will I know who to invite from 'ere?" she said with a giggle.

Looking around the empty room, she frowned. "It is almost five thirty. Where is father? And Ophelia is coming still, no?"

"Yes, she said that she would be here. Knowing mother, she is trying to find something to wear," Blaise said with a grimace.

Jacqueline squirmed a bit in excitement. "You know 'ow much I love your mother. She is such a pleasant lady. You are so lucky to still 'ave your mother," she finished.

Blaise had to bite off a bark of laughter. Ophelia pleasant? His mother was a better actress than he had thought. Not that it was very hard to fool Jacqueline.

Blaise had spent the past two weeks feeling as if he couldn't breathe. Hermione had opened the compartment within him where he had shoved away any inconvenient emotions, and he found it impossible to close them away again. He felt as if there was a whirlpool filled with anger, confusion, and above all fear, threatening to escape at any moment.

He had been shocked that night when she revealed that she was Jeanette. His mind had still trying to process when she brought her soft lips to his. On the one hand, he had wanted to kiss her until they both had no breath, followed by sweeping her into his arms and taking her to bed. A bed that they wouldn't have left for hours if he had his way. On the other hand, he was angry with her. A completely irrational anger, given what he was keeping from her. From everyone, in fact.

The way she had spoken to him. The way she had kissed him. He hadn't felt such complete contentment since before his father had died, and he had wanted to revel in it. To immerse himself, drowning, in her ready love. He had been a moment away from doing so, before his mind had clicked behind his liqueur freed inhibitions.

He wasn't worthy of her. She was the best person that he knew, and she shouldn't waste herself on him. Also, he couldn't predict what his mother would do. He didn't care what Ophelia would do to him, he had years of handling her, but he couldn't bear it if she did something to Hermione. Hermione had survived the war, doing more than he and many others had done. She didn't deserve what she would get by loving him. The stares of the bigots within the wizarding world. Ophelia's sweet words to the face, and daggers to the back. Hermione deserved peace, love, and contentment. He wasn't sure in the least if he could give them to her. Wasn't it better to let her go on...thinking that he didn't love her? Allowing he to gird herself against him, and possibly, hopefully, finding a strong wizard to love her. To give her everything that Blaise secretly dreamed he could.

"Oh, there is Father! And your mother!" Jacqueline broke through.

Ophelia had entered the room on Bernard's arm clothed in her signature purple. This time represented in a plum silk crepe dress. The bodice was closely fitted with a silver beaded neckline accent. She wore a matching silver cuff bracelet and extremely tall matching stilettos that made her tower over the short and dumpy Bernard. Her hair was drawn into a sleek pony, the ends curling. She looked very young. Must have stopped for a quick nip and tuck with a magical surgeon. The process was easier than Muggle surgery, leaving no scars and pain, but costing such a large price, than many a witch didn't bother. Of course, Ophelia spared no expense regarding her vanity.

"Oh, Blaise. Your mother is so lovely. We shall 'ave no doubt that our children will be beautiful," she ended on a sigh.

Blaise looked at her in shock, a look that she didn't see as she was carefully inventorying Ophelia's complete outfit. He had no intention of sleeping with her, let alone having children. He was going to get out of this mess far before then. Even the required kisses that he gave her were merely for show and never in private. And what about Charles? How far did the witch plan on taking this? Apparently to the maximum, but he would be damned if he would shackle himself in a loveless marriage.

"Blaise, how are you my darling," Ophelia asked reaching the table. He stood, enduring his mother's very false air kisses to his cheek. After both of the ladies had been seated, he sat with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh, will you stop doing that? You know how I dislike tosee your hair mussed," Ophelia said in annoyance. "When is everyone else going to arrive? This place is practically empty," she continued, frowning. Ophelia disliked any wasted opportunity when she could be admired by others.

"I thought that it would be nice for us to 'ave some time before everyone else arrives. A family dinner, no?" Jacqueline said.

Ophelia brightened, a false smile appearing on her face. "Of course, my dear. What an excellent idea," she said patting Jacqueline's hand.

Jacqueline beamed. "I thought that is would be nice to meet Blaise's friends in a slightly less formal atmosphere before the season starts. A little dinner and wine would be a perfect start to a lasting friendship I think."

"Simply brilliant. Bernard, you should be so proud to have such an intelligent daughter," Ophelia said in a sugar sweet tone.

Blaise thought that she was laying it on a little think, but the others took it in stride. "Oh yes, her mother, my Mia, was an intelligent and gracious woman and Jacqueline is much like her," Bernard said obviously flattered.

"Oh is so nice to see a couple so in love, it warms my heart," Ophelia was saying. "Soon, we will have some grandchildren to dangle on our knees," she continued.

Bernard was nodding in pleasure. Jacqueline looked uncomfortable and Blaise wanted to scream in frustration.

He stood. "Ladies, if you will excuse me." Ophelia was watching him, a brow raised and a smirk on her face.

He walked from the room heading to the men's loo. Inside, he turned the faucet gathering cold water and splashing it on his face. He dried his face, looking in the mirror in disgust. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his tie and left the room. Walking down the hallway, he came upon Draco and Astoria on their own way to the dining room.

Draco was dressed similarly to himself, in a black suit his tie being an smoky grey, while Blaise's was an emerald green.

Astoria looked elegant in a grey and black lace sheath, her brown hair drawn into a low fishtail braid hanging over one shoulder.

"Hey, mate," Draco said. "What are you doing out here? Don't you have a beautiful woman waiting in there for you? I can't imagine why you would be out here," he ended in a chuckle.

Blaise forced a chuckle. "You know. Had to get away from some of that wedding talk."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Draco said, the air rushing from him as Astoria elbowed him in the stomach.

"Don't let him fool you. His proposal was so romantic," Astoria said, giggling a bit at the flush that darkened the pale wizards cheeks. She raised her left hand, showing off an impressive, cushion cut diamond halo ring.

"You're engaged? Congrats mate," Blaise said. He was genuinely happy for his friend.

"Yeah well, I thought it was time. I couldn't let a woman like Astoria slip through my fingers," Draco said, a smile brightening his features.

Blaise bit down surge of sadness. "I'm happy for you both. Now if you follow me, you can come and finally meet Jacqueline," he said leading them into the dining room.

The place had started to fill by then. Goyle was there with Pansy sitting at the large table that had been set for the occasion. The two had been dating casually for the past few months. Apparently Pansy had been a comfort to Goyle after the death of his best friend Crabbe.

Theo Nott was there with his wife Sally-Anne. The witch was heavily pregnant and seemed about to pop at any moment. That would be an interesting development, and enough to get me out of this dinner party, Blaise thought bitterly.

A few of Jacqueline's friends had also just arrived. A tall, athletic girl called Camille, with short pixie cut black hair, wearing a smart royal blue pantsuit. Also a flamboyantly dressed wizard named Alain and his more sedately dressed boyfriend Lucas. There were also some of Bernard's business acquaintances and even a few of his mother's wretched friends.

Blaise returned to the table and sat down next to Jacqueline. Soon the waiters began to enter the room with trays laden with food.

There were baby crab cakes, beef & watercress crostinis with mango chutney, beef wonton triangles with a spicy chili sauce, and berries, honeydew melon or a mint and midori salsa as appetizers. Next came the salad course, an excellent arugula, pear and asiago cheese salad.

The main course was baked lemon chicken, four cheese mashed potatoes and wild mushrooms, and grilled asparagus. For those that were vegetarian there was also a nice vegetarian lasagna available.

For dessert, there was a chocolate hazelnut tart, black forest cheesecake, or Blaise's personal favorite, a caramel apple pie.

It was all served with a blush pink champagne, Jacqueline's suggestion, and a sparkling cider for those who chose not to imbibe.

It was during desert, and after a look from his mother, that Blaise stood capturing everyone's attention.

"I'd like to thank everyone for coming. I wanted you all to meet Jacqueline and to help us celebrate our engagement," he paused a bit at the clapping that ensued. "I hope that you will welcome her with open arms," he finished a bit awkwardly.

Sitting down, he applied himself to his dessert, and after a moment of silence everyone began talking once more.

Ophelia looked less than pleased at his very blunt engagement announcement, but she couldn't do much about it in full view of everyone, Blaise reasoned.

The rest of the party went off with a hitch, the witches discussing the upcoming season, and the eventual wedding.

Later that night, Blaise found himself sitting at the hotel bar with Draco, their significant others already away in bed. The rest of the guest had already left for their homes or other engagements.

"So, are you going to tell me what's gotten you all wound up?" Draco asked.

Blaise started, looking down into his drink, a simple coke with ice. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Draco rose his glass of Scotch, swirling the smoky flavored liquid around. "Oh come off it, mate. I know we aren't extremely chatty, but we haven't talked in weeks. I haven't been a good friend lately, and I'm sorry about that. I've just been wrapped up in Astoria. Really, though, could you blame a bloke?" he ended on a laugh.

Blaise smiled a bit. "I just have a lot going on."

Draco smirked. "The hidden business you have? Or is it something to do with Jacqueline? I see it mate, she's bloody gorgeous, but you don't have to marry her. If you aren't ready just wait a bit."

"It's not her," Blaise finally mumbled.

Draco leaned back in his chair. "You stepping out? No judgments here, but you might want to wrap that up if you are going to get married."

"No. It's not like that. I met this girl over Christmas."

"Yeah, I remembered you mentioning something about a party."

"Yeah, well I didn't tell you all of it. We don't really talk about...well you know. At least, not in detail," Blaise said.

"Okay, so you shagged the girl. It was before Jacqueline right? So what is the problem?" Draco asked.

"I've seen her since then," Blaise said. Draco was opening his mouth when he interrupted, "She works...er...worked for Jacqueline, and I really got to know her. I really like this girl, Draco."

"Like I said, you don't have to marry Jacqueline," Draco finally said after a moment. "Just break it off. I get that you probably don't want to hurt her, but it's better to tell her now, than later."

Blaise sighed in frustration. "It's more than that, mate. It's a whole lot more. I don't know what I'm going to do."


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione spent an entire week in her room at Grimmauld Place. First, crying until she literally had no tears then falling into a state of numbness. Harry and Ginny had tried their best to bring her out of her Blaise-induced depression and failing dismally. Finally, they asked Ron to come over and he had been to one to break her out of the drowning emotion.

"Get up," he had said to her, pulling off her covers, and rolling his eyes at her squeak of indignation. An arm had immediately risen to cover her chest. It had been a long time since she had been in front of Ron in only her bra and knickers.

"Nothing, I haven't seen before. Now get up," Ron insisted. He stood at the end of her bed.

"What are you bloody doing?! Get out," Hermione said, attempting to grasp the covers and pull them over herself.

"No. You are going to get up. Get dressed and meet me downstairs." At her hiss of anger, he continued, "Or I am going to call your mother." With that threat, he left the room, the sound of his feet echoing from the stairs.

Meekly, she rose with a sigh. She opened her closet, grabbing a pair of jeans and a Weird Sisters band tee. She stepped into a pair of black flats, and secured her hair in a messy ponytail. Stopping by the loo, she washed her face and took the time to brush her teeth. No makeup, it was only Ron after all, she thought.

She tramped down the stairs, still slightly angry at her less than pleasant wake up call.

Ron was sitting on the couch, and at her appearance stood. "Come on, we are going to go for coffee."

"I don't want coffee," Hermione said bluntly. What she wanted was to go back upstairs and burrow her head under the covers.

"I don't care. You're coming," Ron said, his arms crossed over his chest.

"What the...! You know what? Okay, fine. If it will get you off of my back," Hermione said, following him out of the door.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting in a small coffee shop in Diagon Alley, a mug of tea in her hands. Steam rolled gently off the liquid, and the mug warmed her hands.

After a moment of silence, Ron finally spoke. "Everyone is worried about you. You won't leave your room. You don't come out and talk to anyone. And you look like shit," Ron ignored her gasp of affront and continued, "Harry says that you came to Grimmauld Place, after quitting your job over Blaise Zabini. Yeah, Harry told me about you and Blaise. So what did he do to you? All I need is an address, and he's done. We aren't together anymore, but I still care about what happens in your life. You are the first girl I ever loved. I'll kill any bastard who makes you cry like you have been doing," Ron ended on a fierce note.

Hermione was uncomfortable. She would always love Ron in her own way, but there isn't an easy way to tell your former boyfriend about the new man in your life. Or the man that she wished was there.

"I don't want you to do anything. I...I love him, Ron, and I thought that he loved me. I could feel that he did. It was so strong, but I guess only I felt it. He didn't technically string me along. We spent time together, and it just happened. At least on my part. Merlin, I'm shit at relationships," Hermione sighed, her head down.

"No you're not, Hermione, I accept my part in the way that our relationship ended. I think that we loved each other, but it wasn't a love that was supposed to last. That doesn't mean it wasn't real, it was," he said looking into her eyes.

Hermione drew in a deep breath. "I gave it my best shot, Ron. I poured out my heart to him, and it still ended in a bloody mess. I can't even be angry with him. He was actually being quite honorable about the situation. It's just...I thought. Well, it doesn't matter what I thought, the result is still the same. He is engaged. He is not going to end it, and I can't think beyond that."

Ron gazed at her sadly. "If he doesn't realize the great woman that you are then he's thick, and frankly, I wouldn't want you with an arse like that."

Hermione was tired of discussing herself. "So how are you and Lavender?"

After looking at her a moment, he said, "We're doing good. She is still a bit clingy. We're working on it. We fight all the time, but then we make up," he said with a grin.

Hermione smiled. "I'm happy for you, Ron. Seems like Harry and Ginny are getting pretty serious."

Ron grimaced a bit. "Well, if anyone is going to be with my little sister, I'd rather it be my best mate. And besides, Ginny could probably kick Harry's arse herself if he steps out of line. She can be scary, that one can."

Hermione giggled. It was nice spending time with Ron. Time that there was no added pressure of a romantic relationship, strained or otherwise. She had missed her friend.

They finished their coffee, chatting amiably before returning to Grimmauld Place.

Hermione thanked Harry for letting her basically wallow in his home, but told him that it was time to go home and face the music. Joan Granger was getting tired of taking no for an answer.

Joan gazed at her child. She had been home for two days. Hermione had always been a quiet, studious girl, but this new level of silence worried Joan. She had decided to take another approach and wait until Hermione wanted to talk.

The girl sat at the breakfast table in a pair of black sweats, and one of John's old white tee-shirts that had seen better days. John had left for the hardware store, one of his weekend traditions. The man spent hours there, but rarely came home with a thing. Joan had never understood it, but she loved her husband, eccentricities and all.

Joan had been surprised to find Hermione already downstairs nursing a glass of orange juice. Joan had immediately entered mum mode, mixing a bowl of pancake batter and adding chocolate chips for good measure. Ruffling Hermione's curls a bit, Joan turned to the stove, pouring the batter into a hot skillet.

"Mum, can I talk to you about something? I mean, without judgment?" Hermione said quietly, one finger tracing the edge of the juice glass in front of her.

"Of course you can...Is everything okay. You aren't pregnant are you?" Joan asked trepidation in her voice.

"No Mum! I'm not pregnant," Hermione said quickly. Thank god, she thought silently. "Mum, I've just...well. I kind of got involved with this guy."

"Okay," Joan said, nodding at Hermione to continue.

"And well, I spent a lot of time with him. The thing is...he's engaged."

Joan was shocked, but years as a dentist allowed her to school her features. It came in handy at her job, one never knew the state of someone's teeth when they came in the office. Whoo, some of the stories she could tell. She knew her daughter. There was more to the story. She simply nodded again and waited, transferring the pancakes to a plate on the table. She added butter and syrup.

Hermione visibly relaxed. "I want you to know, mum, that I didn't do anything with him once I found out he was engaged. I did spend way too much time with him, and that was stupid of me. I just thought...well, I guess I don't know what I thought. I hoped that maybe...he would choose me, but he didn't, mum. He still chose her," Hermione said tearfully. She reached over, forking two pancakes onto her plate, and dousing the lot with syrup. She cut into the cakes, letting the syrup soaked bread act as a tiny balm to her heart.

Joan had listened to Hermione spill her heart silently then reached over to pull her child into her arms, hugging her tightly.

"My poor baby, that you should have your heart broken so," Joan said. "I knew something was wrong with you. You can't fool me, young lady. I'm your mother. I birthed you. I can tell by simply looking at your face when something has upset you, but you are a grown woman now, and I was going to wait until you felt ready to talk."

"Thank you, mum. I'm sorry that it took me so long to talk. Frankly, I was embarrassed," Hermione said, taking a sip of her orange juice. Her mother made the best breakfast. Hermione never understood why even if she did the exact same steps, her mother's pancakes always tasted better.

"Poppet, you don't have anything to be embarrassed about. You didn't do anything wrong. You are the woman that I raised you to be, and I'm nothing but proud of you. Your father would agree," Joan said. "Do you feel like getting away for a bit? I think your father and I could help with that. You know, we never did sell our condo in Australia. We can call ahead and have the utilities turned on. You can stay there for as long as you need. Maybe invite Ginny and the others? Make a holiday out of it?"

Hermione didn't know about that. Yeah, my last holiday had gone so very well, she thought sarcastically.

It was a week later, after receiving a save the date invitation from Jacqueline, that decided her.

She couldn't believe how malicious the witch was. The witch had had to get one final dig in. A hey bitch, you thought you did something? Well look at this.

The invitation had baby pictures of Blaise and Jacqueline on the front. Being a wizard invitation, Hermione watched a continuous loop of a baby Blaise being drawn into his father's strong arms, giggling as the man smacked a kiss on his chubby cheek. The picture of Jacqueline showed a white blonde baby cuddling into a Grace Kelly look-alike's arms.

Hermione scowled. Even Jacqueline's mother had been beautiful. Too bad beauty often hid rot inside.

Hermione started thinking that it would be nice indeed to visit Australia.

Ginny squealed in delight at the idea of visiting Australia. Even the thought of flying in a Muggle plane didn't give her pause. "So your mum and dad have a condo in Brisbane?"

Hermione was sitting on the couch in Grimmauld Place. "Yeah, they never sold it. I think they meant for it to become a vacation spot. When I went back to get them after the war, it seemed like a good place. Maybe now I'll actually get some time to see the sights."

Ginny reached over to pat Hermione's hand. "So...how are you?"

"I'm okay. It's going to take some time, but it's going to be fine," Hermione said in a falsely bright tone.

Ginny sighed. Hermione wasn't fooling anyone. She decided to shelve the interrogation for a while. "Well, I think a holiday is what we all need. Between Quidditch for me, and Auror training for Harry and Ron, well I think everyone is due. Is it going to bother you if Lavender comes?"

Hermione laughed a little. "Ginny, at this point, it wouldn't bother me if Ron and Lavender snog in front of my face. It really is over between Ron and me," Hermione said. Really, the thought of Lavender and Ron together was okay. Nothing could hurt her like Blaise had.

"Well, okay. I think Harry can use his status as The Boy Who Lived, to get us some holiday time. I'm just not looking forward to seeing Ron's pale legs in swim trunks," Ginny said on a giggle.

Hermione packed enough clothes for at least a fortnight. No sense in letting those clothes she bought for France go to waste.

On the plane, she got the distinct pleasure of sitting in between Ginny and Ron. Ginny wasn't a problem. She seemed to take everything in stride. Ron, however, spent hours looking green, mumbling under his breath about how flying in a machine wasn't natural. Give him a broom any day. Hermione had finally had to elbow him in the side before he noticed the odd looks he was getting from Muggles. Lavender simply patted his hand, and kissed him on the temple. Obviously her adoration for Ron clouded the fright that the witch would have normally had in the plane.

Harry, coming from a Muggle childhood himself, spouted random statistics about plane travel until Hermione wanted to strangle him.

"Harry, you do realize that Ginny, Ron, and Lavender probably only understand half of what you are saying right?" Hermione had finally said, rendering the wizard mute. After her pronouncement, she put on the headphones provided by the airline, and tried to lose herself in a truly horrid Hugh Grant film.

She slept a bit, and woke only when the stewardess brought them a small meal of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. The meal was surprisingly good for airline food, and Hermione gobbled down the meal, starving. She had spent entirely too many days with little appetite.

After a seemingly interminable flight, they finally landed in Brisbane. The baggage claim was beyond hectic, and reeling in her Non-Muggle raised friends awe at the surroundings conspired to give Hermione a headache.

Once in a large taxi, and on her way to her parent's condo, Hermione allowed herself to take in the beauty of her surroundings. The Jacaranda trees were in bloom, and she found the violet flowers a lovely accent against the bright blue sky. The weather was so different from London, and Hermione was glad that she had taken the time to buy a few sundresses. The pale green one she wore, paired with little brown sandals, was perfect for the eighty degree weather. The tropical heat was going to take some getting used to. Music played in the background. Madonna's Ray of Light. Hermione rolled her eyes; she was beyond tired of the song.

Snapping a hair-tie from her wrist, Hermione gathered her hair, twisting the heavy curls into a knot on her head. She didn't care how it looked, she just wanted it off of her neck.

"So, Hermione, where how big did you say your parents condo was?" Lavender said.

"It's four bedrooms and two loo's. It has a small kitchen and decently sized living room. It's on the sixth floor if I remember right," Hermione said index finger to her mouth thinking. "Yes, it is on the sixth floor. I remember looking down at the Brisbane River."

"Ooooh, this is going to be so much fun. I haven't taken a holiday in forever," Lavender said.

Hermione had made a point to be nice to the witch. Even though the comment that she had overheard her saying that day had directly led Hermione to heartbreak. She couldn't blame the witch. It was her own fault. My fault for being such an air-headed ninny, Hermione thought to herself.

Ginny had been surprised when Hermione hadn't minded Lavender's presence, but after she saw her try her best to be pleasant, some of her anxiety eased. She was glad. Hermione needed some effortless fun. She felt bad for her. It had been years of heavy for her friend. First Voldemort then the breakup with Ron, now the heartache over Blaise. When Ginny had told Harry about Hermione's offer of accompanying her to Australia, they got together with Ron, all deciding that they would try their best to show Hermione a good time. Ron had even been prepared to tell Lavender that she couldn't go, but was secretly glad when Hermione hadn't minded.

"I'm bloody starving," Ron suddenly said. "I say that when we get to the condo, we all shower then go out for some dinner. I'm tired, but I know that no one else feels like cooking. Besides, I doubt that your mum called ahead to have someone stock the fridge, right Hermione?"

"No, I don't think that they did. You're right though, I certainly won't feel like cooking," Hermione said.

"Wow, this place is nice, Hermione!" Harry said, looking around the room.

The condo had floor to ceiling windows facing the meandering Brisbane River. The floors were dark wood, cooled by the very welcoming air conditioning. The living room had a large, beige sectional with matching chairs. There was a small coffee table, with a few large photograph books on top.

The kitchen was more dark wood cabinets and stainless steel appliances. Above the sink was a golden tiled back splash with maroon accents. There was even a dishwasher.

The bedrooms were a decent size, each one had a queen sized bed except for the master bedroom. It had a king sized bed and an adjoining bathroom. That room, Hermione claimed for herself. It was her parent's condo after all.

"You could have given that room to Harry and I," Ginny said under her breath jokingly. "Lavender is going to hog the other one. The time the witch must use simply to do that hair," she ended sharing a giggle with Hermione.

"I don't know about you lot, but I'm feeling pretty tired. Why don't we order in instead of going out," Hermione suggested. They had all taken the time to shower, dressing in cool lightweight clothing.

"Ordering in?" Ron said. Hermione watched the light bulb click in his eyes, "Oh! You mean you can order food using the phone. Brilliant that."

Hermione laughed. It still amused her a bit at how the magical people she met still goggled over Muggle things. Searching out the phone in the kitchen, she pursued the phone book. "What do you guys feel like eating?" she called back into the living room.

"What about Italian?" Lavender called from the room. The room went silent. Lavender's eyes widened.

Hermione could hear her quietly asking what she had said wrong.

"Oh,no! I really feel like seafood, right Harry? Seafood sounds brilliant right about now," Ginny quickly piped in.

Hermione smiled sadly. No, she didn't feel like Italian. "Seafood it is," she called back. "And I'm buying. No arguments," she said to cover the awkward moment.

Soon they all sat around the coffee table, instead of the bar stools, the only other meal area. They feasted on crispy-skin barramundi on roasted fennel, shrimp, and even fish and chips that Ron insisted be included, washing it all down with ice cold colas.

"I don't know if I enjoy the fizziness of this beverage," Lavender said. "I think I much prefer tea, but this is nice, if only occasional."

"Hey, that is only for starters," Ron said, going into his bedroom and returning with _two_ large bottles of tequila in each hand. Hermione couldn't think of where he had gotten them. "Do you have some shot glasses in here, Hermione?"

Hermione's brow crinkled a bit. "Actually I don't know. My parents don't really drink a lot."

"Well their mates must have, because I found this stashed in my room," Ron laughed.

Hmmm, Hermione thought, maybe there are some things that I _don't_ know about my parents. "Well if they have the drink, they must have the glasses," she said standing and walking to the kitchen. There she found a stack of shot glasses and she returned with five glasses.

Ron's brow rose after he had poured everyone a shot, and Hermione was the first to down hers.

Hermione smirked. "Hey, I do do some things besides study," she said grinning. "How bout we make this more interesting? What about a game of Never Have I Ever."

Harry grinned. He was, of course, the only one who knew about the Muggle drinking game, explaining, "Okay the rules are we go around in a circle each stating something that we have never done, starting with the phrase: "Never Have I Ever". If anyone in the group has done it they have to drink a shot. If no one has, the asker has to take the shot. Easy right?" he finished.

"Oooo. I'll start," Ginny said. "Okay. Never have I ever...um...been involved in a tussle with a troll at school," she said giggling when Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their shots.

"My turn," Harry said coughing a bit at the sting of alcohol. "Never have I ever been on the end of a vindictive spell by either Hermione or Ginny," he said crowing with laughter when Ron downed another shot.

"Maybe I should take one more for good measure, mate," Ron said laughingly. On and on the statements went, getting more outlandish and scandalous, until everyone was getting pretty pissed.

"Okay," Lavender said, slurring. "Ever have I Never," she stopped, laughing, "Oops, Never have I ever, had a one night stand."

Ginny quickly looked at Hermione, seeing the witch flinch a bit. Hermione stiffened then calmly reached out to take her shot glass, only her slightly trembling hand betraying her. She downed the shot then stood. "I'm feeling rather sleepy. I think I'll just go on to bed," she said and walked, if somewhat unsteadily, to her bedroom, closing the door with a quiet click behind her.

She didn't see Lavender's eyes pop out, and her jaw almost hit the coffee table.


	12. Chapter 12

Blaise was tired of the endless days of balls, musicales, dances, routs, assemblies, picnics, and visits to the opera that Jacqueline and Ophelia insisted that he attend. He hated the season.

It got to a level that he began to think slamming his head into a stone wall would be preferable.

He had always been able to avoid the season, mostly because his family was a bit off color, and also because he pretended to be boorish and rude. Anything that would keep the matchmaking mother's from even thinking to send him an invite.

With his engagement to Jacqueline, he kissed all of his valuable silence away, but at least he didn't have to dodge the chits intent on marrying into his fortune. Since Jacqueline was an heiress, and engaged to him, it seemed that his very unfashionable family history no longer mattered.

Ophelia, of course, basked in the glow of attention. She loved that the haughty bitches that had never before deigned to acknowledge her, now bent over backwards to please her, their faces bright with false smiles. So what if she had slept with some of their husbands? Or even caused a divorce and married at least one of them. Ophelia reasoned that they should all be over that by now. She loved having a rich soon-to-be daughter-in-law.

Blaise yawned, trying his best to keep from falling asleep. He was currently sitting in a balcony seat at the Minerva Ballet Theater. The place was huge, with scarlet drapes and gilded gold moldings. The Forsberg's, of course, had their own private balcony seats situated in a prime spot. It was all see and be seen. The ballet Swan Lake was being performed. It seemed that tragic romance followed him everywhere.

Normally, Blaise liked ballet, but his company left much to be desired. Jacqueline sat to his left preening at the admiring glances being thrown their way. She wore a strapless red silk chiffon dress, with her trademark sweetheart neckline. It had a ruched bodice and was floor length. The red spike heels that she wore with it looked deadly. Her blonde hair was twined into a low sleek bun.

She grasped his hand. "Blaise, isn't this simply wonderful? Oh, 'ow I love the ballet!"

Blaise pasted an artificial smile on his face. "Yes, it's wonderful," he said blandly, jumping when his mother kicked his shin. No one else seemed to notice. Blaise resisted the urge to rub away the sting of those pointed heels his mother wore.

Ophelia wore an asymmetrical, one shoulder, floor length gown, in black, a departure from her usual purple. "Get it together. I won't have you ruining this for me," she said hissed quietly enough for only Blaise to hear then turning to smile at Bernard.

Blaise suffered through the next hour, standing as soon as the curtains closed. "If you will excuse me, I have a rather pressing engagement that I need to attend," he said bowing before darting out of the box.

It was pressing, if you thought dragging Draco to a bar was an urgent matter.

"I think I'm going to do it, mate. Break it off I mean," Blaise said, downing a beer and grimacing at the taste. He hated beer, but since Draco was buying he thought it rude to protest. That and the fact that he had dragged the man away from his fiancée.

Draco clapped him on the back. "Good for you, my friend. Are you going to go look for your mysterious lady?"

Blaise pondered whether or not to tell Draco about Hermione for a minute. "Draco, if I tell you who she is you have to promise not to lose your shit."

Intrigued, Draco leaned forward. Downing his beer and calling for another he said, "I'm ready."

"It's Hermione," Blaise said.

Draco choked on his beer. "Hermione Granger," he wheezed, trying to draw in a clear breath.

"Yeah, Hermione Granger," Blaise said in a slightly dangerous tone.

Draco raised his hands, palm up. "Hey, mate, I'm not going to say anything against her."

Blaise raised a brow. "You aren't?"

"No, I figure...well...she helped Potter stay alive during the war. Without her man, my family would still be in Hell. You know Potter wouldn't have been able to survive without the girl. And besides, if you feel half of what I feel for Astoria for her, then who am I to say you shouldn't," Draco said, looking at Blaise considerately. "Why did it take you so long?"

"There is just a lot of shit going on, mate. I have to go and see her. I can't stand that I hurt her like I did," Blaise said.

"You? Hurt a woman? You are going to have to tell me all of this," Draco said.

"It is kind of a long story," Blaise said.

"I've got nothing but time, and you kind of owe me after dragging me from Astoria's very warm embrace," Draco replied.

Blaise told Draco everything, except for the bit about owning Prospero. That he wanted to tell Hermione first. He just told Draco that Ophelia had something on him, that she was blackmailing him into marriage.

Draco spit out his beer. "What? Now, I don't want to say anything against your mother but...that is just sick. How could she do something like that?"

"Mother has issues. My mother and I have never liked each other but...she is still my mother. I want to come up with a way to get out of this without hurting her more than I have to, but I can't do it anymore. Not hurting her or Jacqueline is hurting me instead. And Hermione. This was okay, well not exactly okay, but bearable when it was just me. Now that Hermione is involved...it has to end," Blaise said. Blaise hoped that she still loved him, that they still had a chance. Even if they didn't, she still deserved the truth, and he would let her go. No matter how much it would hurt: or how broken he would be.

"Well, you didn't know that you two had shagged before right? I mean when you started to spend time together," Draco said bluntly.

"That doesn't excuse it. Deep down I had to have known. I spent so much time with her, way more than I'd ever spent with Jacqueline, until recently that is," Blaise said with a grimace. "I can only tell you basic things about Jacqueline, but with Hermione it's different. I know that her favorite color is blue, that she is grumpy at night when she gets tired, that she once had a pet mouse called Georgette. I could go on and on."

"You've got it bad," Draco said with a grin. "Question is...Do you know where she is?"

"No, but I think I know who does," Blaise said grimly.

There wasn't a place that Blaise least liked to visit more than the Ministry of Magic, but he thought it might be the only place where he would catch Harry Potter.

It was a stroke of luck when he saw Ginny Weasley instead, leaving the building. She must have been just visiting her brother or Harry in the Auror offices.

"Ginny!" Blaise called, running a bit to catch up with her. Damn, the witch walked fast.

Ginny stopped, her head whipping around and her eyes narrowing when she saw who it was. "What do you bloody want?"

Blaise had expected her attitude, but he was determined not to let it bother him. "I need to know where Hermione is."

"You have a lot of fucking nerve! Isn't it enough that she had to go all the way to Brisbane to get away from even the memory of you? Just leave her alone!" Ginny said angrily.

"So she is in Australia?" Blaise said, watching the witch's eyes widen and her hand clap over her mouth. Well, that was easy, Blaise thought.

Blaise turned to leave, freezing at Ginny's shouted, "Stop!"

He turned to find the witch's wand trained squarely on him. Wizards and witches walking around them paused to stare.

"You are causing a scene," Blaise said quietly, making no move to draw his own wand.

"I don't give a fuck! I'm not going to let you hurt my friend again. Now, I fucked up telling you where she is, but I'll be damned if I let you go," Ginny said.

Blaised raised his hands, palms outward, tensing a bit when Ginny's wand arm stiffened. "Ginny, I have no intention of hurting Hermione."

"What do you want with her?" Ginny said, lowering her wand just a touch.

"There are some things that I need to explain to her. Things that she should hear first, but I swear on my father's grave that I don't mean her any harm. Please, believe me when I tell you this," Blaise said.

Ginny lowered her wand the rest of the way, and the onlookers, seeing that nothing was going to happen thankfully went on about their business.

Ginny sighed. "Okay. I think I'm losing my good sense, but I _think_ that I do believe you. You can find her in a small coffee shop called Brava Java, in Hecate Village. No, I'm not telling you her home address. She can give that to you if she so decides. One thing though, if you are lying, I'll personally come, in the dead of night if I have to, and remove your reason for calling yourself a man." With that pronouncement, the witch turned sharply and walked away.

Blaise looked on, dumbfounded for a full thirty seconds, before he snapped into action. It seemed that a trip to Australia was in order, and he wasn't going to waste any more time.


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione woke up the morning after their game of Never Have I Ever, with the world's worst hangover. She hadn't thought of bringing any headache potion, and was glad to discover some Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. Quickly downing the pills, with a handful of cold water, she stumbled out of her bedroom, conjuring a pair of huge dark sunglasses that looked laughable paired with her shorts, tee-shirt and bunny slippers.

"Who turned on the sun so brightly?" she grumbled jokingly to her friends.

Thankfully, Ginny and Harry had gotten up early, and shopped for some food and the refrigerator was filled with juice, cold cuts, cheese, soda, and pretty much all the Muggle snack foods they liked. The two hadn't been able to find the wizarding district, so those purchases would have to wait for later.

Her stomach growling with hunger, surprisingly, despite her hangover, Hermione poured a bowl of frosted flakes. She alternated taking bites of banana, and spoonfuls of cereal, too lazy to slice the fruit.

"So what to you guys feel like doing today? We only have a few days here, and I want them to count," she said after swallowing a mouthful of banana.

"Well, I for one would really like to see the mansions on George Street," Lavender said. "I do know how to read and research," she said in slight affront at everyone's stare.

"Fine, by me," Hermione finally said.

They spent the next few days seeing all the sights, enjoying them all, although there had been one silent moment at Anzac Square and the Shrine of Remembrance. The eternal flame and the subsurface crypts, in honor of Australian soldiers that died in World War I, served to remind them of their own fallen friends that had perished in the war against Voldemort.

Hermione was so enjoying Brisbane, and the time away, that she decided that she was going to stay a bit longer. "My Mum and Dad won't mind if I stay a little longer," she said to Ginny, after speaking with her parents via phone. "Really, it's something about this place that just...I don't know...makes me feel better."

"Then I think that you should stay longer. Take all the time you need," Ginny said.

On the last night all together in Brisbane as a group they decided to go out to club. The club, Katy's, was very hip, with its dark walls and colored lights. They all enjoyed the Muggle music, and sipped cocktails dancing around on the spacious dance floor.

"I can't believe I'm actually in a Muggle club," Lavender had shouted over the thrumming music.

"I know, but it's fun, right?" Hermione shouted back, grinning at the witch. They had gotten to know each other a little more, and Hermione found that she sort of liked the girl. They would never be best friends, but at least now they could joke and hang out without pressure. Lavender had finally gotten over her suspicion that Hermione wanted Ron back, and now they talked with an ease they had never had before.

Hermione was sad to see her friends leave, though she was glad of the quiet that now filled the condo. After they left, she set the condo to rights and spent some time thinking about her next move.

It was too late into the semester to start school, so she thought that she would get a job working until the next semester came about. She had already decided that her move would be on a semi-permanent basis. Her savings were decent, but she reasoned that it would be nice to have that nest egg in case of emergencies and have the job for a steady income.

Also, it would give her a chance to make some local friends. She was going stir crazy just sitting around the condo, watching television. There was only so much Sex and the City that a girl could watch. She did enjoy some of the solitude. She didn't have to make excuses or put on a brave face to make everyone else comfortable, but enough was enough.

It was time to get a job, and she really didn't know where she wanted to start. Wizarding job or Muggle job? She decided that while she would enjoy the anonymity of a Muggle job, a wizarding job would be best. She wasn't looking forward to the expectations she would get when she mentioned her name, but she didn't want to completely cut herself from magic. Sometimes being Hermione Granger, friend of The Boy Who Lived, came with its own share of headaches. Either they treated you like you were the bloody Queen, or they just assumed that you would be stuck up and didn't even bother to be friendly.

After a couple weeks of fruitless searching, Hermione ended up working at a small cafe. The Brava Java was located in the wizarding district, Hecate Village.

Hecate Village was more than just a shopping venue for wizards. It seemed almost a city within a city. The entrance was located on a privately owned strawberry orchard on the outskirts of the city. There were shops, restaurants, homes and apartments. Hermione almost wished that her parents didn't already have a condo, because she wouldn't have minded living in the village.

Brava Java wasn't her ideal job, but the pay was decent and she liked the owner. After a few weeks of on-site training, Hermione found that she was a pretty proficient barista. She enjoyed working with the public. The harmless flirting and pleasant chats were a nice distraction. She even liked the finicky espresso machine. It was just brewing of another nature, and Hermione had always been a dab hand at potions.

Lena Greene, the owner, was a small, plump witch with a head full of salt and pepper hair. She sort of reminded Hermione of Professor Sprout. She had opened the cafe with her husband Phillip, and after the man died, she refused to give up working, despite her children's protests.

"What would I have done, eh? Sit in a nursing home rotting, playing backgammon? Not at all. I'll not spend my last days in a pissy hovel," she had scoffed, ignoring the fact that it wasn't a nursing home, but a retirement community. A four star retirement community. Her children had rolled their eyes in exasperation and instead made a point to check on their mother a few times a week.

Hermione even made friends with Lena's granddaughter April.

April was a bubbly girl, her friendship advances quickly overriding Hermione's slight reticence. They went on scores of shopping trips and barbecues, where April made a point to introduce Hermione to her friends. Hermione soon began to feel young again, instead of like a character in a soap opera.

Frank, April's boyfriend, introduced her to one of his friend's Randall Pierce.

Randall, who liked to be called Rand, was a tall, lean, American wizard that was backpacking through the country. He had met Frank after a truly heinous game of poker, in which he had lost all of his money. Being a take it as it comes kind of guy, he rolled with it, crashing at Frank's flat until he could make the money to leave. He had been there for a month. It seemed that the wizard needed to soon make alternate plans.

Rand had blonde hair bleached white by the sun, and deep blue eyes surrounded by lashes that a girl would kill for. Frank was also blond, but that was where the differences between the two wizards ended. Frank had more of a surfer vibe, but Rand was all cowboy. He never went anywhere without his cream colored Stetson. He walked with a lazy gait, as if he had all the time in the world. If Hermione hadn't already been bat-shit crazy in love, she probably would have fallen for the guy, at least for a fling anyway.

Rand was handsome, but he was also a gentleman. He opened doors for her and pulled out her chair if they happened to go to a sit down restaurant. They hadn't gone out on a date by themselves yet, they were always with a group. It seemed to make the outings more casual, which Hermione liked. He knew that she wasn't looking for anything serious, though she didn't go into the details.

He had only asked, "How can a beautiful girl like you be single? The guy that broke your heart is obviously an idiot."

Hermione had smiled, warmed a bit by the compliment.

"So, are you going to come out to the beach with us tonight? I know Rand would like to see you," April said grinning at Hermione.

It was near to closing and they were taking last orders and waiting for a few of the regulars to leave. They were reluctant of course, because it was raining. Not technically a downpour, but nothing that anyone would enjoy walking out into.

Wiping down the bar, Hermione grinned. "Rand's a nice guy, but he knows it not going to be serious. Not that I don't enjoy the flirting...but yeah...I'm not ready for more than that."

"Well, girl that's a shame. I haven't seen Rand act like such an idiot around a girl since...well...I don't remember, but he definitely likes you." April said. "Oh, speak of the devil," she added nodding her head at the door.

Rand was walking into the cafe, pulling off his hat and shaking drops on the floor.

"Hey, careful. I have to mop up that mess," Hermione said jokingly. "Ten minutes to close, if you want something speak now," she called out to the other customers.

A few of them straggled to the counter, intent on getting their last minute caffeine fix before braving the rain.

"Wow, it is really coming down out there," Hermione said after she ushered the last person out, leaving only April and Rand left.

April pulled out her wand and a dish brush began washing all of the coffee mugs, glasses, silverware, and plates piled in the sink. "Don't just stand there looking cute," She called to Rand. "You wanna stay in here after close, you have to help. And where is Frank? He said that he was going to be here."

"He got caught up at work. A shipment came in and Heather called in sick. Again," Rand said, picking up a broom and beginning to sweep the room.

"What?! I'm so tired of that girl. She is taking advantage of Frank being so nice. I might have to have a word with her," April said frowning. Frank worked at a bookstore that also carried games. Anytime a new game for the Mirage system was released the place turned into a complete mad house.

"Yeah, well, Mirage is having a re-release of The Trials of Hercules. It's supposed to have bonus levels, and a hidden subplot game if you can defeat it. Good Frank works at Brown's, because I was not waiting in the rain for the release party for my copy," Rand said.

"Mirage? What is Mirage?" Hermione said while rolling out the mob bucket. She blew a bit of hair out of her face. She wished she had brought a clip for her fringe. It had been driving her nuts all day.

April and Rand looked at her in shock, mouths open.

Rand continued to look at her strangely, but April was fortunately able to rally much quicker. "Where have you been for the last...I don't know... _three_ years? You really don't know what Mirage is?" April asked in amazement.

Hermione blushed. "Well I have had a lot going on, helping to defeat Voldemort and all," she said huffily.

April rolled her eyes. "Yes, and we are eternally grateful. I'm not trying to trivialize that, but saying you don't know about Mirage is like saying that you don't know what a wheel is. Mirage is only like, one of the best wizarding entertainment devices to come out in the last hundred years."

"That still isn't telling me _what_ it is," Hermione said exasperated. She began to mop the floor, she wanted to be finished. She was dead on her feet and she wanted to get some food, take a shower, and go to sleep. In exactly that order.

Rand, finally out of his shock induced stupor, butted in. "Mirage is a gaming system. Basically, this clear cube with a gold base. You insert these crystal cards; each is spelled with a different adventure. It's not like role playing or just watching something. You really feel like you are in the world. The people seem real. Shit, you can even taste the food you put in your mouth. I mean, the possibilities are endless. I'm not a whiz or anything, but I think its alchemy. What makes it really interesting is that no one knows who invented it. There are no pictures of the owner, nothing. Only a black triangle logo with a stylized M on it. Whoever invented it must be rolling in dough, so I don't blame them wanting to keep it a secret."

Hermione paused. Stylized M? Alchemy? Secret owner? The switches began to click in her mind. A vision of Blaise's flat began to play in her head. The door. The door had had just that symbol that Rand described etched in the glass. A triangle...A triangle was the emblem for fire in alchemical symbology! Fires...flame...Blaze...Blaise! The table in his flat had been filled with crystals, crystals that he must use in his work.

But why would he keep this a secret, Hermione wondered. It was absolutely amazing, probably the most amazing alchemical invention since the Philosopher's Stone. Why would he keep it from me? A small voice in Hermione's voice said. Why the pretending? Hermione had always known that Blaise was smart, but this was bloody brilliant.

"Are you okay, Hermione? You look like you've seen a ghost," April said in concern.

Hermione started. "Um, yes I'm fine," she said mopping across the floor furiously. She didn't see the worried look that Rand and April shared.

Hermione was mentally working herself into a tizzy. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now!

"How could he keep this a secret?" she whispered fiercely under her breath. "And from me of all people. I can understand being involved with study, experimenting, and working until you get something right," she stopped. She gave herself a mental wake up. She wasn't entitled to these feelings. I don't have the right to ask him, she thought sadly.

Propping her mob against the wall, she turned on some music with a flick of her wand. A loud Weird Sisters song began to play. Thankfully, the music became a distraction, and Rand and April continued to clean, singing a bit to the music.

"So I was thinking," April finally said, "Maybe after we finish we can go get some food and take it with us to Brown's. I know Frank has got to be starving, and I don't like my sweetie going hungry."

"Okay. I don't think I have anything in my fridge besides a jar of jam," Hermione said, laughing a bit.

"Ew...don't look now, but there is a creeper staring at us through the window," April suddenly said in disgust.

Rand walked to the large window, peering out into the rain. "Want me to go out and have a talk with him?" he said cracking his knuckles.

Hermione walked to the window, "Oh, leave him alone, he is probably just some homeless bloke that is...," her voice trailed off. She walked closer to the window, her breath fogging the glass. She knew that bloke! What the hell was Blaise doing here!

Blaise, seeing that she had noticed him, turned to leave. Caught up in emotion he didn't even think to Apparate.

Oh, no. You aren't getting away that easy, Hermione thought. "Guys can you finish up for me? There is something that I forgot to do," she said, pushing the door open and running out into the rain.

"What is bloody going on?" April said in confusion.

Hermione ran after Blaise, her feet pounding into the pavement. The puddles of water splashed up, soaking the bottom of her khaki trousers, while the rain pasted her maroon polo to her body.

"Wait!" she called. Blaise walked faster, ducking into an ally.

"Wait, I said. You owe me that!" Hermione shouted over the rain.

Blaise froze, turning around. The alley was dark, both by shadows and the overcast sky.

Hermione ran a hand over her face, pushing away sodden curls. "What are you doing here?"

Blaise looked at her solemnly. "I just...I wanted to see if you were okay."

Hermione was pissed. "No! You don't get to do this! You don't get to just show up here like this, out of the blue with that lame excuse. After all this time! How did you even know where I was?"

He shuffled his feet. "Ginny...kind of let it slip."

"Ginny? You don't even run in the same circles as Ginny. How in the bloody hell did you learn where I was from her? You know what. I don't even care. You just need to go. You can't do this to me. I was getting better! I was healing, and now you come here to rip it open again? What? Your fiancée not enough for you? Feel like getting a little on the side? Well, tough fucking luck," Hermione said. She was trembling violently.

Blaise reached out to touch her arm, flinching when she jerked back.

"No! Don't touch me!" she shouted. She visibly calmed herself then said in a quieter voice, "Blaise, what do you want from me?"

Blaise's eyes closed. "Merlin, I can't do this anymore!" he said turning to the building on his left and punching the solid wood.

"Stop! You'll hurt yourself," Hermione said, anger being momentarily eclipsed by concern. She said reaching out and touching his bloodied hand. Pulling out her wand, she murmured a soft healing spell. It was not as good as Madame Pomfrey might have done, but it would suffice.

Blaise stilled. She was touching him, and he didn't want to shatter the moment.

"What can't you do anymore," Hermione asked quietly.

"I can't pretend that I don't love you," Blaise said in an emotion choked voice. "I tried...It was for the best...I couldn't let you just..."

Hermione raised a hand to his lips. "Shhh," she said, "You love me?"

Blaise suddenly pulled her to him, burying his face in her neck, oblivious of the rain. "Of course I do! But it's selfish of me. You don't know...You just don't know everything...I was trying to protect you."

Hermione rubbed her face into his chest, breathing in the sandalwood scent that the rain didn't diminish. "Protect me? From what? I'm a big girl, Blaise."

"Hermione, I know that you could handle just about anything, but you shouldn't have to. You shouldn't have to deal with all the shit that comes with my life," Blaise said.

"Shouldn't you let me decide that? I'm a grown woman, Blaise, and I'm far from fragile."

"You don't understand. There is more..." he stopped speaking when Hermione rose and took his lips in a kiss.

Hermione was tired of talking, she knew that there was more to say, but all she wanted was to kiss the wizard that she loved. She pulled him into a sidelong Apparation to her condo.

They popped into the condo, clothes soaking wet, and quickly gathering into a puddle at their feet.

Hermione began to rip at Blaise's jacket, frustrated when the sodden cloth wouldn't obey. He stepped away from her and began to shuck his clothes rapidly leaving them in a heap on the floor.

Hermione's breath left her lungs at the sight of him completely nude. There was no mask this time, nothing to impede her view of his sublime physique. His dark curls were flattened by water, but it did nothing to detract from his beauty. She wanted to lick a line down his chiseled chest, and trace her fingers across his hard stomach. She wanted to grasp his biceps, and wait for his strong arms to close around her once again.

Hermione moved to remove her clothes, but his hand reached out to stop her. "No, love. Let me do that."

She smiled a bit. He pulled the wet polo shirt over her head, and threw it where it smacked against the wall, trails of water following in its wake.

Her trousers, socks, and shoes followed soon after, leaving her in an icy pink lace bra and matching knickers.

Blaise stopped to stare. "Beautiful," he breathed.

Hermione blushed, resisting the slight urge to cover herself. She believed him, when he said that she was beautiful. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, and more to point, he _made_ her feel beautiful. She felt lovelier here and now than she had ever felt; more so than at the Triwizard tournament ball, and even more than the night of the masquerade.

"Come here," Blaise said huskily.

She captured his hand, after taking the time to fetch her wand. "My bedroom is just there," she said motioning down the hall.

He followed her silently, barely taking in his surroundings.

The room was darkened by the drawn shades and the overcast sky. Hermione tried the light switch, but found that the storm had knocked out the power. Moving away from Blaise, she stopped at her bedside table, and used her wand to light the candles that rested there. Soon a sweet vanilla scent accompanied the mellow firelight.

She turned back to Blaise, startled to find him directly behind her. He swung her into his arms, lying her down on the bed. He took her mouth in a soft kiss, a gentle pressure, pausing to nibble a bit on her lips.

Hermione moaned, drawing his lower lip in between hers and sucking gently.

Blaise moved from her lips, and down to her neck laying soft kisses against her satiny, jasmine scented skin. His hand, reaching behind her to unsnap her bra clasp, and he drew the garment from her.

Hermione closed her eyes, as she felt his tongue lap at her breast, then blow lightly across it causing the nipple to stiffen. His kissed his way down her stomach to the edge of her knickers. She raised her hips, and he pulled the scrap of lace down her legs. He raised one of her legs, kissing the soft skin on the inside of her leg by the knee.

"I'm going to use your wand, okay?" Blaise whispered. "I left mine on your living room floor," he said with a low chuckle, reaching toward the bedside table for the wand.

Opening her eyes, Hermione's locked with Blaise's and she nodded, watching as he performed the necessary anti-conception and STD spells.

Hermione rose to her knees, pulling the wand from his hand and throwing it on the floor before wrapping an arm around his neck and kissing him. His lips were so soft, and he tasted wonderful. Hermione felt completely insatiable. They fell to the bed, Blaise landing on top.

"I want you inside me now," Hermione said softly, staring into his dark eyes.

Blaise shook his head slowly, smiling. "Not yet. I've wanted this for far too long not to indulge myself. Just relax, and let me make you feel good."

Hermione was slightly miffed for a split second, until he touched her center, his hand stroking softly. She screamed softly when his mouth soon followed. Her hand fisted into the comforter, as his tongue swirled around her yearning nub, lashing against it relentlessly. Two of his fingers entered her slick channel, and began to slide in a driving rhythm.

Hermione panted in gasps, a hand moving to run through his dark curls, the other hand flexing and unflexing against the bed. Her back bowed when she came, her vision blurring around the edges. She watched, eyes half mast, as he rose to his knees, his tongue licking his bottom lip, his teeth scraping against it.

"Now you can have what you want," he said, huskily, grasping her hips before driving inside her in a fierce rhythm.

Hermione was glad that the condo next door was currently empty; because she was sure her neighbors would have complaints the next day. She pushed a fist against her mouth trying to muffle her screams of pleasure.

Suddenly, he flipped them over, his strong arms flexing, and Hermione found herself on top looking down into his face. He pushed her back gently until she was upright. The feeling of him inside her was intense at this angle and she moved with an experimental wiggle. She reveled in the power she felt, as she watched his face transfix in pleasure, and a groan rip from his throat.

She teased him a bit, hips moving in a slow circle, giggling at his groan of frustration.

"Come on, baby," he said softly.

"Turnabout is fair play," Hermione said just as softly, whimpering when his hand rose to her breast, tweaking her nipple softly. His other hand reached between them to flick at her clit.

"Should I tell you how good you taste, Hermione? I could taste you all night and never tire," Blaise said rubbing softly, trying to break her control.

"Oh, Merlin. Okay, I'm done teasing," Hermione said, both hands rising to grasp the headboard. She began to move back and forth in a rapid motion, loving the look on his face as his pleasure mounted.

He grew harder inside her, beginning to breathe her name in a low chant. She had never heard her name sound more lovely. She tightened her muscles around him, watching him as he came. It was so beautiful, and she came soon after, collapsing on his chest, both breathing hard, enjoying the slight aftershocks of pleasure.

She slowly moved away from him, and they found themselves under the covers, spooned together.

Blaise buried his face in her sweet smelling hair. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, too."

"There are some things that we need to discuss," Blaise said reluctantly. "I'm not going to marry Jacqueline. I don't care what it will cost me."

"Cost you? What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

Blaise paused for a beat. "I'm being blackmailed into marrying her."

Hermione drew away, turning in his arms so she could look into his eyes. "By whom? Is it Jacqueline? I'll kill that bitch!"

Blaise chuckled a bit. He loved his fierce woman. "If only it were that simple," he said. "No, it's my own bloody mother."

"Ophelia? You know I've never met your mother, but from what I'm hearing I don't know if I want to," Hermione said.

"It's not just me, if it was I'd just tell her to bloody fuck off. It's the people that work for me...Hermione I own-"

"I know," Hermone said.

Blaise was shocked. "You do? How long have you known?"

"Give me a little credit, Love. I do admit that it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure it out, but there were just too many clues. How exactly is she blackmailing you?"

"She is threatening to expose me as owner to my stockholders. They are a prejudiced pureblood lot, who don't think that a teenager can run a multi-billion Galleon business. I've been a coward."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, baby. I'm so proud of you. You haven't been a coward, you have been selfless. I'm sorry now that I was so angry with you. I have to say though, Mirage is brilliant. You invented at around fifteen or sixteen, right?"

"Yeah, Mirage basically saved my life. It gave me a reason to not bow to pressure and become a Death Eater or something, and I was afraid. Afraid that it would all disappear and I'd be left with nothing."

"I understand. I just wish that you could have told me this before."

"I wanted to, but, I didn't want you to have to deal with this. You need some peace after everything. Merlin, just the things that you dealt with during the war is enough to drive a person mad. You are such a strong woman. I don't deserve you."

Hermione kissed him softly. "I love you, Blaise. I don't like that you suffered with this for so long. Don't ever keep something like this a secret from me. I can help you deal with this," she said snuggling into his arms.

Blaise brushed a curl from her face. "Merlin, Hermione. If you ever stop loving me...I think I'd die."

"You don't ever have to worry about that, because it will never happen. I think I have a plan to deal with this, but we can talk more about it tomorrow," she said sleepily.

She burrowed into the covers, almost asleep when she heard his voice.

"Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you marry me?" he asked quietly.

Hermione stilled, her eyes popping open. She thought of her grand plans of marrying at twenty-three and all that followed. Her mind raced for a minute before stopping. She would never love any man like she loved Blaise. Sometimes life didn't follow your exact plans, but that didn't mean that you shouldn't take chances. She smiled. "Of course."

Blaise's breath left in a rush. She had been silent for a while, and he thought that she was going to say no. He grinned, before sobering. They were going to have to deal with a lot, but he didn't care as long as he had his beautiful witch beside him.


	14. Chapter 14

Blaise woke before Hermione, easing out of bed, he padded naked into the loo. He took care of his morning ablutions, using an unopened toothbrush that he found in a cup by the sink.

He stood in the doorway looking at Hermione sleep. Merlin, she was beautiful. He couldn't believe that after everything that she loved him. That she wanted to marry him.

He wanted to marry her as soon as possible. Now that he had her, he saw no reason to wait. He wanted to spend as much time with her as he could.

Walking to the living room, he cast both cleaning and drying spells on his clothes, grimacing at the stiffness of the fabric. He didn't have time to try to figure out the Muggle washing machines. He had a few errands to run before Hermione woke.

* * *

Hermione woke to a warm sugar smell. Blaise, in his boxers, was bringing her breakfast in bed.

Hermione stretched sitting and pulling just the sheet up over her. "Mmmm, you didn't have to do this, but thank you," she said. There were Belgian waffles with strawberries and whipped cream with a side of bacon. A glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee sat beside the plate. A slim, clear vase held a few jasmine flowers.

Hermione reached for a piece of bacon, gasping when a twinkle caught her eye. On her left ring finger was a large Burma star sapphire set in a gold setting.

"Oh Merlin, Blaise. It's beautiful," she said turning, her hand to watch the ring catch the light.

"That isn't all," Blaise said, setting the tray on the bed. "Blow your breath across it."

Hermione brought the ring near her lips and blew. The ring glowed with a muted blue light before an entwined B and H appeared within the stone, vivid for a moment, before fading.

"The sapphire and gold reminded me of that night, and I know blue is your favorite color, so...I thought that you would like it. I know it's a little unusual. We can get it exchanged if you want something different," He hastened to add.

"No! I love it," she said quickly.

"How did you find the time to get all of this together," Hermione said, turning to place a kiss on his lips.

"Well, I wanted to cook breakfast for you, but I don't know how to work the stove. So I went out for breakfast," he said with a laugh. "And I wanted you to have a ring right away. Sometimes money can make everything easier."

He grasped the hand that wore his ring and kissed it, looking into her eyes. "I want to marry you as soon as possible. Today, if you will have me."

Hermione's mind reeled. "Um...Okay," she said smiling. "But we have to have another ceremony later for my parents and friends. Not to mention the fact that you are still technically engaged."

Blaise scoffed. "No, I'm not. She just doesn't know it yet," he said watching Hermione eat. "She's at home right now. She'll be pissed because I'm skipping the rehearsal dinner. I'm going to call Ophelia and make her break the news. It will give us time to implement your plan, which is?"

Hermione outlined her plan to him while finishing her breakfast ending with, "But first I want to marry you. It's going to make the plan that much sweeter."

"You're brilliant, baby," Blaise said kissing her before asking, "Do you mind if I use your mirror?"

"Sure, just let me remove my name from it. You wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, now would you?" Hermione said with a laugh.

* * *

The conversation with his mother was less than ideal, but Blaise carried on lying. "The trip was unavoidable. There are some details that required my presence."

Ophelia frowned. "You are going to miss the rehearsal dinner. What am I going to tell everyone? Do you realize how this is going to make me look?"

"Do you really care, mother?" Blaise asked, irritated. "It doesn't matter. I will be at there for the wedding," he said, silently adding, _I'm just not going through with the ceremony_.

"I guess I shall have to be satisfied with that, but you are on thin ice. If you get one toe out of line, I'll ruin you," Ophelia said, the mirror blanking before Blaise could say another word.

Hermione sitting to his side said, "Blaise, your mother is horrible. I'm sorry, but I have to say it," she said pushing his inky curls back and kissing him by the ear. "I'm so sorry that you had to grow up around that awful woman."

Blaise shrugged, pushing away anxiety. "Don't even think about her. Just think about us, and the fact that I want to marry you as soon as possible. I don't want us to ever be apart again."

Hermione hugged him to her, their foreheads resting together. "You realize that this is crazy right? This is probably the most spontaneous thing I'll ever do."

One of his brows raised, a smirk gracing his lips. "Hmmm, I seem to remember you being very spontaneous last Christmas hols."

Hermione rolled her eyes, giggling. "Besides that. What? Can I help it that I have a dead sexy fiancé?"

Blaise loved the sound of the word fiancé coming out of Hermione's mouth in relation to him. He relaxed on the couch, pulling her to his side, her head resting in the crook of his neck.

"Do you have any ideas for the ceremony?" he asked.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a combination Muggle and Wizard wedding. I know that it won't be the most traditional wedding ever, but there are some things that I've always wanted since I was a little girl."

"We can have whatever kind of wedding you want, as long as by the end of the night I get to call you my wife," Blaise said, kissing the top of her head. "What about witnesses?" he asked after a moment.

"I guess I could call April and Frank. You'll like them they...Oh Merlin! I need to call April. She is probably going insane not knowing what happened to me!" Hermione grabbed her mirror from the table, flipping the compact open, rubbing her thumb across the surface and speaking April's name.

April's face appeared in less than a second. "Hermione Granger! Where the hell are you? Do you know how crazy Frank and I have been going? Not to mention Rand! You better start giving me some answers!"

Hermione cringed. "Well...I...I met up with someone that I haven't seen in a while and we got to talking," she said, elbowing Blaise as he snickered off to the side.

"Sure, we were talking," she heard him mumble under his breath, chuckling.

"What?! Why didn't you just invite him in? No, you had to run out into a bloody downpour! Anything could have happened to you! I thought maybe some leftover Voldemort sympathizers had gotten you! Frank barely kept me from notifying the authorities."

"I'm sorry, look, I was wondering if you would do me a favor...Can you and Frank be my witnesses? I'm getting married," Hermione said holding the engagement ring up for April to see.

"Oh my gosh! I think I'm going to have a heart attack. Frank and I are coming over right now! Don't you dare leave!"

* * *

Charles Martin rolled his shoulders, his muscles tired. Sitting back in his chair wearily, he contemplated his day. He had spent the last six hours guiding Tike, a first time dam, through a difficult foaling. The foal's head had been at a problematic angle, and readjusting the foal and calming the dam had added to an already stressful day. He hadn't wanted to use magic; he still trusted the old methods and only used his wand as a last resort. It made him a valuable veterinarian in his field.

Charles didn't mind his work, in fact, he loved it. Coming to work at the chateau had been a dream come true, and an opportunity that he hadn't been able to pass up. Meeting Jacqueline had been the icing on top of his cake; at least, at first.

Jacqueline was engaged to another man, and while she kept telling him that she was going to end it, Charles saw nothing to attest to that. He was getting tired of being led on, but he loved Jacqueline. He knew that it was pathetic, but he kept hoping that she would choose him. That, and the fact that she was all too willing to seduce him into submission, had made him hold on to hope.

He leaned forward, massaging his temples, thinking, and was startled when the woman, who was in his thoughts, burst into his office.

"Charles, darling, I missed you so today, you won't believe the day I've 'ad, it 'as been so stressful!" The blonde witch said, sitting on the edge of his desk. Most of the employees had gone for the day, of course. Jacqueline never did visit during normal business hours; she knew that the stragglers leftover valued their jobs too much to interfere with her actions.

Charles pushed a hand in his hair, trying to push back the bone straight, silky strands. It was time for a haircut, he thought in irritation. "I hope that involved breaking off your engagement," he said.

Jacqueline blinked then seemed to rally. She walked over to Charles, swinging a leg over his hip and straddling him in the office chair. "Oh, Mon cher, soon. It just isn't the right time," she said softly. She didn't tell him that she had absolutely no intention of ending the engagement. Men had had mistresses for centuries. Why shouldn't she have her cake and eat it too? It served Blaise right anyway, she thought. The man had been MIA for over a day. Their rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, and Ophelia had called to say that Blaise wouldn't be able to make it. He hadn't even had the decency to call himself! Jacqueline ignored the fact that she had been acting with everything but decency for the past few months.

"Just give me a little more time," she said, kissing his lips, nibbling a little.

Charles was annoyed. He grasped her hips, lifting her away from him and setting her on the desk. "I'm tired of this. I don't want to give you more time. It's now or never. You break it off with him or we are over," he said angrily.

Jacqueline was shocked. She had never thought that he would give her an ultimatum. "Over? You can't mean that. Oh, Mon Cher, just relax and let me love you. You will forget about this business soon enough."

It pained Charles that he wasn't surprised at her answer. Deep down he had knew that it was going to end this way, but he had hoped for more. "No, Jacqueline. I deserve more than this. I deserve more than you just using me for you ready piece of cock. You said that you loved me. Obviously, it was a lie. I meant it when I said that I loved you, but I won't let you use me like this anymore."

"What! You can't leave me," Jacqueline refused to listen. "I could 'ave your job for this! Do you realize the opportunity that you 'ave 'ere? You will never find a place as nice. You will never 'ave another woman like me!"

Charles flinched. The truth had slammed him in the face, and he was ashamed. Ashamed that he had let this go on so far, that his weakness had allowed it. In his defense, he had done it out of love. Love that had only ever been real to him apparently.

"That is fine. I will offer my resignation to your father as soon as possible. As for you, I pity you. You don't know what we could have had. I still love you, and because of that, I won't tell your fiancé, but that is all you will get from me. Call it a parting gift of sorts," Charles said sadly.

Jacqueline jumped down from the desk, chest heaving in anger. "Fine," she said eyes narrowed, hands on her hips. "You think that matters? You think I would 'ave ever settled down with a poor veterinarian? Blaise 'as mansions, money, poise, and class. Things that you will never 'ave. 'E is going to marry me and we will live 'appily ever after and I will never want for anything, instead of living with you as a pauper." With that, she turned from the room.

Charles stood motionless in the doorway, watching her walk away. He ignored the looks of pity that the vet techs gave him.


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione was relieved that the meeting between her friends and Blaise went surprisingly well.

April had stalked into the room, determined to hear the entire story. As the story spilled from her, Hermione visibly watched the girly "Awww" look appear on April's face.

"My gosh, Hermione. That has got to be the most romantic thing I've ever heard. I'm really happy for you. Frank and I would be happy to be your witnesses," the witch said.

"Thank you," Hermione said gratefully, then asked softly, "Where is Rand?"

April looked sad for a moment. "Hermione...I don't think that Rand will be coming."

Realization hit Hermione.

Rand had obviously had deeper feelings than Hermione had thought, and while she felt badly, she hadn't given mixed signals. She liked Rand a great deal, but there would never be anyone like Blaise for her.

"Who is Rand?" Blaise asked curiously.

Hermione blushed. "He's a friend of April and Frank. We all went out together a few times. It wasn't anything romantic," she hastened to add.

Blaise smiled. "I know that. I trust you, Hermione."

Blaise was finally secure in his love with Hermione. He didn't care what had happened before, he only wanted to start anew and make his life with his woman.

* * *

Hermione had thought that she was going to have to sacrifice a bit in planning her wedding, but she was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the plans came together. Blaise was correct about the power of money. After a visit to a Gringotts branch in Hecate Village, and the arduous task of converting the Galleons to Australian money, they proceeded to the Australian Embassy. Thankfully, they had risen early, to better avoid the crowds and very sharp eyes of some of the employees. They found a greedy little Consular that was only too happy to accept the money, and date the Notice of Intended Marriage Form for an earlier date.

In the Village they found the perfect venue. It seemed like fate had lent a helping hand in the form of a small chapel, with beautiful stained glass windows depicting tropical flowers. The small chapel was built of stone and looked like something from a misty Scottish town, but surprisingly fit in the tropical scenery, surrounded by a lush garden of rock, cooktown orchids and banksia nestled sidelong deep green ferns.

Though small, the interior had a hallowed air with dark, polished wood and golden fixtures. The floor was more of the rich ipe wood and lent the room a feeling of comfort and coziness. The room had decidedly Christian elements, but not overtly. Hermione had been told that she would be able to find the type of wedding service she desired at Stonegrove Chapel.

The minister, Timothy Northcliff, who was also a wizard, was very happy indeed to be considered to officiate the wedding.

"I know that my chapel is unusual to say the least in Wizarding society, but I'm the product of a witch mother and a very spiritual father. They always encouraged me to peruse both sides of my heritage," the thirty-something year old wizard said, his plump cheeks dimpling.

"I'm so glad to have found you. Actually, I'm very surprised that we were able to find someone with your views so easily," Hermione said.

"Actually, it's more common than you would think, at least since you know who's death. I respect you so much for your part in freeing us from V-Voldemort," Timothy said, stumbling a bit over the dark wizard's name. "People, especially half-bloods and Muggleborns, are glad not to have to shed all of their past beliefs. I believe that it's possible to be magical and still spiritual. That is why I love my work," he continued. "Are you sure that you want the most traditional wizard's marriage ceremony? It isn't like the ceremonies that they perform now. It cannot be undone. It binds the souls, making a true soul mate bond. That is why it has become out of fashion, what with people divorcing left and right these days."

Blaise winced a bit, thinking of his mother, before stating. "That is exactly what we want."

* * *

"April, I'm about to go mad. I have less than four hours to find a dress, shoes, and accessories. Not to mention doing my hair and makeup. Why did I decide to marry and arrange it all in one day? This isn't bloody Las Vegas," Hermione moaned. They had enough time to get married, change then get on the plane for France. They were sacrificing their wedding night, but Hermione assured herself that that wasn't the most important part. She would have her love. They would have years of special nights. Besides, after everything she thought that she would be too exhausted to put in much of a performance.

April patted her back. "Come on, one more store. I'm sure this one will have the perfect dress."

Hermione was tired of the search for the "perfect dress". If she wasn't getting married in such a beautiful venue, she might have gone home and just put on her white bikini. Merlin knew that it was hot enough for the swimwear. They had shopped in the Village, not finding anything that she liked. Now, in desperation, they had begun to shop in the Muggle shopping district.

"Okay, but this is the last store. If I can't find something here, I'm going to wear something I already have, and just transfigure it white," Hermione said, exasperation creeping into her voice.

"No, I won't allow it," April said dragging Hermione into a cheery looking bridal shop. The colors were calming, painted in a soft lilac with white molding and comfortable seating areas. All around the room were platforms on which mannequins in beautiful dresses stood.

They approached a large glass counter, and Hermione wanted to groan in irritation. The woman behind the counter couldn't be more ancient. What would she know about wedding dresses? Hermione was afraid that she was going to leave the store clothed in a lacy Victorian mess. Hermione tried to covertly look around for someone else to assist them and was startled at the surprisingly young voice the woman had.

"Hello, I'm Farida. Welcome to my shop. Which of you is the bride?" the woman asked moving around the counter, her spry movements belying her age.

The woman was tiny, almost birdlike, most of her height being the white bun on the top of her head. Hey eyes were a dark green, and her most standout feature.

"Not me, her," April said, nodding a head toward Hermione.

Hermione's hand was grasped by the woman's small one, and she was pulled into an open spot of the floor.

"Stand still. Arms out," Farida ordered, circling Hermione. "You are a size four? Correct?"

"Yes," Hermione said, astonished. Maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt, especially if she can tell my size by only looking, Hermione thought.

"I will need to answer a few questions for me. Is your wedding traditional or modern? Where is the venue? How many guests? What look are you going for?" Farida shot rapid fire questions at her.

"Um...it's somewhat traditional. It will be held in a beautiful stone chapel. There will just be my groom and I, and our two friends, who are also witnesses. Oh, and one photographer. As for my dress, I would like something simple, but lovely. I don't want sleeves; it's far too hot for that. I want my dress to stand the test of time, something that I would still love twenty years later, while looking at the photos."

"Hmmm," Farida said. "I have a dress I just finished that I think would serve you well," the woman said turning and walking through a door in the back.

"See, it seems like she knows her stuff," April whispered.

"We'll see," Hermione said skeptically, slouching a little, but straightening when she heard the click of Farida's shoes returning to the room.

In her arms was a lilac and white box, with the name Farida in silver cursive letters scrawled across the top. "Go try this on," Farida said, thrusting the box into Hermione's arms. She directed Hermione through a doorway.

The door opened to room with a curtained dressing room to the left of the door way, and a large wall- sized mirror with a platform in front. In front of that was a white couch, obviously meant for a bride's guests to comfortably give their opinions of dresses.

Hermione entered the dressing room, quickly shedding her shorts and tee-shirt, and kicking off her sandals.

She stepped into the dress, calling for Farida to help her zip the garment. She had had to remove her blue bra, as it didn't look good with the dress. She would have to invest in a strapless bra apparently.

Barefoot, she pushed back the curtain and walked to the platform. There she took the time to look at herself, gasping at the sight of the dress.

"Oh Hermione, that dress is perfect," April breathed.

The dress was perfect. It was spaghetti strap, with a v-neckline the bodice almost seeming to wrap around her torso. At the waist was a white fabric flower that was the dress's only decoration. The skirt floated away, and seemed to convey lightness.

"I think that this is the dress, April," Hermione whispered. Hermione loved it. Even with her hair in a sloppy ponytail, the dress gave her a simple elegance.

From behind her, Farida smiled, another sell under her belt. "Now we just need the shoes and undergarments. Follow me."

* * *

April and Hermione rushed back to the condo. They had a miracle to perform.

Blaise had gotten ready while they left and would be waiting at the chapel for Hermione's arrival.

Hermione jumped into the shower, washing with the jasmine shower gel that Blaise loved. Wearing her bathrobe, she tackled her hair. She smoothed her hair with Sleekeasy's drawing it into a loosely curled plait hanging over one shoulder. She added fresh jasmine flowers, and dusted her hair with tiny specks of gold glitter which added the subtlest shimmer.

April applied her makeup, taking to heart Hermione's warning that she wanted a natural look. She applied a light moisturizing foundation, with a slightly matte finish, setting it with a translucent powder. There would be no shine allowed in the pictures. Next, she applied a peachy, pink blush on the apples of Hermione's cheeks. On her eyes, she used a light brown liner and dusted her eyelids with a soft cream colored shadow, finally adding a coat of mascara to open her eyes. April dabbed a berry colored lipstick on Hermione's lips that made them look dewy.

"I forgot accessories," Hermione said frowning.

"I have that covered," April said, leaving the room. The witch wore a dark green strapless dress, her hair up in a French twist. She came back with a small bag. Opening it, she removed a thin gold necklace with matching delicate bangles.

"Your something new is the dress. Something blue is your engagement ring. I thought you could combine the old and borrowed by wearing these. They were my mother's and she gave them to me on my graduation day. I'd love if you would wear them," April said, smiling.

"Are you sure?" Hermione said, touched.

"Of course. Now hold still and let me fasten the necklace for you."

After securing the necklace, she helped Hermione step into her wedding gown, zipping the garment for her. She stepped into golden stilettos that were bejeweled with a light blue square stone. She pushed the gold bangles on her wrist and stepped back.

"We better get going. Thank Merlin, you decided to marry in the Village. Its seriously going to shave travel time Apparating over," April said.

The Apparated outside the building, quickly mounting the stairs and entering the vestibule.

"I'm going to go in ahead and make sure that everything is ready. Frank will to come out to walk you down the aisle. When the music starts, you enter through the doorway, okay?" April said.

Hermione nodded nervously. She had been fine until she entered the chapel doors, but now her stomach felt as if it was filled to the brim with chocolate frogs, all jumping around for dominance.

"Hermione?" April said, concerned.

"Okay," Hermione said weakly. "I understand."

April looked at her for a beat, but then nodded and entered through the doorway.

Frank came out soon after, leaving the doorway open, and walking to Hermione, who was off to the side. He handed Hermione a small bouquet of white flowers sprinkled with a golden dust.

He wore a dark grey suit with a black tie, and looked dashing. He held out his arm, and Hermione placed her small hand in the crook. Johann Pachelbel's in D major began to softly play from the sanctuary, and taking a deep breath, Hermione began to walk through the doorway and down the aisle.

For a moment, she concentrated on simply placing one foot in front of the other, her hand tightening on Franks arm, but gathering her courage, she looked up and into her groom's eyes.

The look on Blaise's face took her breath away. It was filled with a deep and abiding love that seemed tangible and washed away all of her nervousness. Her back straightened and she walked more purposely down the aisle, secure in his love.

Blaise wore a black double breasted tuxedo with besom pockets, under which was a snowy white shirt, smoky grey vest and a black tie. He looked suave, from the top of his inky curls down to the tips of his shined black shoes.

Hermione didn't notice which flowers that decorated the pews, nor did she notice the white and gold ceremonial robe that Timothy wore. Beyond her notice was April standing to the side, or the lighted ivory and gold candles. She didn't notice the photographer. She didn't see anything, but the man she loved.

After a walk that seemed miles long, she finally arrived at her groom's side, Frank handing her to Blaise. She handed her bouquet to April and blushed a little as Blaise brought her hand to his mouth, softly kissing her skin.

They turned, facing and looked into each other's eyes, before turning to face Timothy.

"Greetings," Timothy spoke in a deliberate, rich voice. "Today we gather to witness the weaving of two lives. In tribute and commemoration of both their cultures, Blaise and Hermione have chosen to incorporate both wizard and Muggle tradition into their ceremony. Blaise and Hermione, as a couple, exemplify the message of hope, love, respect and acceptance. It is a lesson that all should take to heart. One that should extend beyond these hallowed walls into all our lives. A lesson of love. This ceremony will consecrate the love that Blaise and Hermione share."

Timothy continued, "Let us first have a moment of silence to honor the memory of those not present in body, but certainly here in spirit."

Blaise thought of his father, and smiled inwardly. He felt sure that the man was watching from above. He would have loved Hermione.

"Blaise and Hermione," Timothy said, "the ties that will soon knit you together is a blending of the soul, and no vows are more sacred than the vows that you are about to speak. No spell on earth more binding. You are joining together, your soul's entwining forevermore. You will enjoy this walk through life together hand in hand, extending beyond death, past the stars and into eternity. Put your relationship on a pedestal and commit yourselves to it. Become each other's calm in the middle of any storm. Be each other's rock. Comfort and love each other always. Now, I would like to read a small verse from the bible. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8a: Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails."

Timothy walked forward taking their hands and leading them to a small table, "Now we will light the candle of unity to symbolize the union of your lives and hearts." Handing them both a white taper, Timothy watched as the couple lit a large, white pillar candle.

They moved away from the table as Timothy spoke, his voice seemingly more official. "Do you enter into this marriage legally and spiritually free? And have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to each other in the holy state of matrimony?"

Hermione and Blaise both answered yes.

"Since it is your purpose to join in marriage, please join hands," Timothy said drawing a blue ribbon from his robe. "As you hold the hands of your love, listen to what I am about to say. The Gr´a Siorai is a spell, an invocation if you will, passed down centuries from our Druid Ancestors. It is not an entreaty to be taken lightly, but it expresses the most pure and devoted love between a witch and wizard."

Timothy wrapped the blue ribbon around Blaise and Hermione's joined hands. Pulling his wand from his robe, he swirled the wood in a circular motion speaking, "Gr´a Siorai," thrice. A mellow golden light surged from the wand, and gently warmed their hands. The ribbon seemed to glow a vivid blue, before fading.

"Now, Hermione and Blaise have opted to speak their own personal vows, join me in witnessing this moment."

Blaise swallowed before speaking. "Hermione, I never thought that I would ever meet someone like you. I never expected love to ever be something that I would experience. I realize now that meeting you has filled my world with light, pushing away the shadows. I promise to love you beyond forever. To be there for you during times of trial and times of joy. I promise to work hard for you and any children that we may have, and to love those children with every fiber of my being. You are so beautiful, in body, mind, and spirit. With you at my side, I can face anything. On this day, I'm blessed to love and be loved by you, and to marry you."

Hermione blinked back tears. "Blaise, I love you so much. It's a love that has changed me, transformed me from the blindly focus driven witch who did nothing but study. The witch that hid from life, afraid to be hurt. Knowing you has brought me more joy that you will ever know. Being with you gives a framework to my life, and I love you for it. You are a strong, smart, honorable man. A man too humble to know just how lovely you are. I also promise to love you forever. And I am blessed to know, love and be loved by you, and to marry you."

Timothy unwound the ribbon for the exchange of rings, setting it aside. It was usually a lovely memento for a wedded couple. "The rings?" he asked.

Frank and April stepped forward. April gave Hermione the ring that she had surprisingly found the time to buy, and Frank handed Blaise a ring as well.

"These rings are a physical reminder of your constant love. The circle represents the wholeness of that love, everlasting and unbroken. These rings are hereby blessed," Timothy intoned.

Turning to Blaise, Timothy said, "Repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed."

"With this ring, I thee wed," Blaise said, his voice deep with emotion. He slid the gold band on Hermione's finger, next to her engagement ring.

Turning to Hermione, Timothy said, "Repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed."

"With this ring, I thee wed," Hermione said huskily, sliding a golden band on Blaise's ring finger.

Timothy smiled. "By the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife." Nodding at Blaise, he said, "You may kiss your bride."

Blaise circled an arm around Hermione's waist and she tiptoed resting a hand against his face. He drew her lips to his, kissing her softly, but thoroughly and passionately.

His eyes closed, his forehead resting against hers. "Now we are truly together forever," he said before drawing her lips in another soft kiss.


	16. Chapter 16

Hermione and Blaise arrived in Paris scant hours before his rehearsal dinner. It had been an exhausting trip, with a very important stopover in London to see an old "friend", before onward to France.

"My hair looks a complete and utter mess," Hermione said, patting the curls that had become mussed during the long flight.

Blaise slung an arm around her, kissing her near her hairline. "You always look beautiful, baby. Besides, I'm getting us a room. We are both completely knackered, and I don't want to chance anyone seeing us before we are ready to be found."

Hermione nodded in agreement, raising her arms in a stretch. "It's going to feel great to get in a nice comfortable bed. Those chairs killed me. I thought first class was supposed to be more comfortable."

"Well, we could have taken my jet, but I don't think that that would have been very inconspicuous," Blaise said wryly.

"Yeah, I know that. I can't even enjoy the perks of having a handsome, super rich husband," Hermione joked.

Blaise's brow rose. "Hmmm, I seem to remember you enjoying my "perk" very much."

Hermione giggled. "If I wasn't so tired, I'd show you just how much I enjoyed your "perk".

They hailed a taxi, and made their way to Ange Hotel. Hermione loved the atmosphere immediately. It had a mellow, slightly bohemian feel. They rented one of the larger rooms. It was a lovely. From the doorway there was a nice sitting room with a teal divan sitting in the left corner, and a large picture window that showcased a beautiful Parisian view. Further left was a beautiful bathroom complete with a large tub, shower, and two sinks. There was a large bed, curtained in a teal curtain with a golden quilted comforter that echoed the colors in the wallpaper.

"Blaise, I'm so glad that you got this room for more than one night, because we are definitely going to need it," Hermione said, slipping her arms around him and tiptoeing to kiss his jaw.

* * *

The day of the wedding was a clear, cold day. Being October, they felt lucky that it wasn't raining.

Hermione held Blaise's hand as they quietly made their way into the private home where the wedding was being held. It looked like the wedding planner had gone transfiguration happy. The floor had been charmed into a material resembling obsidian. The pews were white, with black flowers decorating the aisle sides. Black flowers? What was that? Funeral chic? Hermione thought that it was apt, because Jacqueline's wedding aspirations were about to die an agonizing death.

The pews were filled to the brim. Women in ornate robes, and fantastical hats. Men pulling at the collars of their dress robes, wishing to be anywhere else.

"Isn't that..." Hermione heard someone whisper.

"Muriel, I do believe that is..." another voice said.

Murmurs rippled through the congregation, people turning to stare.

"Well, that's the groom, but who is that with him? She looks remarkably like..." a third voice said.

Hermione's hand tightened on Blaise's arm, and he looked down at her reassuringly. At least she knew they weren't whispering about what they were wearing.

Hermione had fretted for a full hour on what to wear, finally deciding on a bicolor grey and black dress. It had a cowl neck, rushed bodice, and looked stylish under her grey dress coat. She donned dark hose and thigh high suede boots with a wicked heel. Her only jewelry, besides her rings were a pair of beautiful sapphire French hook drop earrings. A wedding gift from Blaise. Her hair was drawn into an updo. She had allowed her curls to do their own thing, and she rather liked it. It had a slightly Grecian feel. Just because she wasn't a guest didn't mean she wasn't going to look her best.

Blaise wore a dark grey suit, paired with a black tie shot through with tiny silver threads. Hermione knew that they looked very fashionable together.

The click of heels alerted her of someone approaching down the aisle. It was Jacqueline's best friend Camille. Camille looked chic in a black sheath dress, with a peplum and a bow at the waist. Her pixie cut hair was stylishly tousled. She would have looked runway ready, but for the look on her face. Hermione had only met the witch on a few occasions before, and had never seen her with such an expression.

Indignation colored Camille's face. "What are you doing out here?" The question was directed at Blaise. "And why are you here with her? Surely you didn't invite her? I don't think that Jacqueline will be pleased."

Blaise sighed, impatiently. "Where is Jacqueline?"

Camille looked nonplussed. "She is in the dressing room of course," the witch said pointing to a doorway left of the altar. "But that doesn't answer my..."

Blaise and Hermione started for the doorway, ignoring the whispers, and brushing past Camille.

"Wait! You can't go in there! It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!" Camille wailed.

Hermione's eyes rolled. Really, that was what the witch was _most_ worried about? Jacqueline was an airhead and apparently she surrounded herself with people _exactly_ like her.

The walked down a short hallway before pausing in front of a pair of white double doors.

Blaise looked down at Hermione. "You don't have to come in if you don't want to."

Hermione scoffed. "There is no way I'm missing this."

Chuckling a bit, Blaise opened the door.

Jacqueline was standing in front a full length mirror, smoothing a hand down her gown.

She hadn't noticed them yet and it gave Hermione a moment to observe the wedding attire. Hermione had to admit that the dress was becoming on the witch. It was strapless, with a sweetheart neckline, and an asymmetrically pleated bodice. The bottom was a flared mermaid with a cut organza blossom hem and blizzard beading. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled into a sleek up-do, with pinned side-swept bangs and a few tendrils hanging by her face. Perched on her head was a sparkling briolette cut diamond tiara with a matching earring and necklace set that Hermione was sure was real. On her dainty feet were t-strap ivory satin shoes with multi-layered crystals.

A week ago, Hermione probably would have burst in tears at only the thought of Jacqueline in her wedding finery, but now, secure in Blaise's love, she merely looked. The witch did look good, but Hermione had the man. And that was all she wanted or needed.

Jacqueline looked up, noticing them in the mirror. She turned swiftly, teetering on her heels. "Blaise?! What are you doing 'ere?! You can't see me!" She grabbed for a shawl on a nearby chair trying to cover herself then her eyes narrowed. "What is _she_ doing 'ere? She was not invited, nor is she welcome." Her forehead wrinkled in confusion and mounting anger as she noticed their clasped hands.

"What is the meaning of this? Why are you 'olding 'er 'and? Whatever she told you is a lie," Jacqueline said in nervous voice.

Hermione ran her other hand down Blaise's arm, before kissing his cheek and stepping back.

Blaise started forward. "Jacqueline, I'm not marrying you today," he said slowly.

"What!? What do you mean you aren't marrying me today?!" Jacqueline shrieked.

"I am not marrying you today," Blaise repeated slowly. "I am not marrying you today, because I don't love you. I'm in love with Hermione."

"In love with...No! You cannot do this to me! Do you know 'ow many people are out there waiting to see us marry! Two hundred and fifty guests! The French Minister for Magic is out there! Not to mention my friends...The whole of Wizarding society! You are going to leave me for _that_?! How long 'as this been going on behind my back?" Jacqueline practically screamed.

"Yes I am, and she is not a _that._ She is a beautiful, _faithful_ , woman, who I love enormously. It doesn't matter how long it's been going on, the important part is that I love her, and I don't love you. You can't be that surprised can you? We barely spent any time together," Blaise said bluntly.

"Of course she is, love," Hermione said from behind him.

"You shut up! You 'ave no business being 'ere with _my_ fiancé!" Jacqueline said venomously, her brow arched.

"I have every right to be here with my husband," Hermione said raising her hand, the light sparking off of the deep blue sapphire. She smirked as the witch's eyes seemed to pop from their sockets.

"Aaaargh! 'Usband! You 'ave married this...this peasant?!," Jacqueline screamed.

"Will you keep it down?" Hermione said calmly, her voice slightly bored. In reality, she was practically jumping up and down inside. "If you keep that up, someone will think you are being murdered."

Blaise's lips twitched with barely restrained humor. "Okay, bottom line. I just came to tell you in person."

"Though you don't deserve that," Hermione piped in.

Jacqueline's mouth opened and shut, before she began stomping about the small room, screaming at the top of her lungs. She ripped the tiara from her head, throwing it across the room.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You might want to pick that up. That thing is probably worth a bloody fortune."

Blaise snickered.

Jacqueline started for Hermione, hands outstretched in a strangling motion.

Hermione whipped out her wand. "I don't think so, bitch. One step further and I'll curse all those blonde tresses from your head. Unless you think baldness is coming into fashion, I'd stop."

Jacqueline froze, her vanity overruling anger. Suddenly, she sat down wearily. "I'm going to be ruined. I'll be a laughingstock."

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to cheat on your fiancé. We didn't go behind your back. We knew each other before, and not from school, but that isn't any of your business," Hermione said. "Be a woman, put your big girl knickers on and grow up. You can't have everything your way, and you damn sure can't have my husband," Hermione said frankly.

Jacqueline burst into tears, head lying on the vanity in front of her.

Blaise looked uncomfortable. He never liked any woman crying in front of him.

"Come on, Blaise. There is nothing more that we can do here," Hermione said.

Glancing one more time at the sobbing witch, Blaise nodded and took Hermione's hand. They left the room, shutting the door quietly behind them.

* * *

Ophelia sat in the front pew on the groom's side, a smug grin on her face. Everything was going according to plan. She was basking in her triumph. _All those snotty bitches won't look down on me again_ , she thought to herself. She was getting a rich daughter in law that simply loved her, a huge financial settlement, and her self- righteous son was finally getting what he deserved.

How dare the little brat look down on her. After all she had done for him; he couldn't do this one thing, this one tiny thing for her.

Ophelia sighed. She had arrived slightly late, to make a more memorable appearance, and it had been worth it. People gasped at her beauty, or at least that was what she thought was happening. Ophelia had no idea that she had arrived just after Blaise had entered the hall with _another_ woman on his arm.

In her ignorance, she believed that they were admiring her floor length, plum colored gown. The one shoulder gown had a black lace detail and a black satin bow around the waist. The black lace theme was carried over to a tiny lace hat perched in front of her slicked back updo.

She had walked slowly up the aisle, the better to be admired, and sat down in the front pew. A pew where she had the best view when Blaise came from a room with his hand clasped with Hermione's.

* * *

Stepping in front of the alter Blaise loudly cleared his throat, his hand tightening a bit on Hermione's for reassurance.

"Can I have your attention, please?" The room quieted instantly. Everyone was dying of curiosity.

Ophelia's eyebrow was arched in question.

"I would like to inform you that there will be no wedding today. You all may exit the way you entered," he said, his voice echoing throughout the room.

There was a moment of shocked silence, before the people in the very back began to stand and make their way from the pews.

Ophelia jumped from her seat. "Wait! I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. Of course there will be a wedding," she said in a false cheery voice. She stepped up next to her son. "What is going on? If you ruin this, I will bury you," she hissed.

Blaise ignored her. "No misunderstanding. I'm sorry that you wasted your time getting here. These things do happen."

"That is it! I am going to the Prophet as soon as possible. You are going to regret this folly," Ophelia shouted.

While many of the guests had left, just as many had stopped to watch the drama unfolding.

"Hmmm, I believe that we have beaten you to the punch," Hermione said examining her nails.

Ophelia swung around to face her, before looking at her son. "Who is _this_? And what does she mean? Explain this instant!"

Hermione pasted a smile on her face. "Oh, how rude of me. My name is Hermione. Hermione Zabini, your new daughter in law. It's so nice to finally meet you, Mum. Do you mind if I call you Mum?" Hermione said in a sugar sweet tone.

Ophelia goggled. "What! How can you be married? You were supposed to be getting married today, and certainly not to this _person_. You can't be married...and well if you are you are getting divorced immediately. Then you are going to go back and apologize to Jacqueline. You will grovel if need be. We don't want your _secrets_ coming out do we?" Ophelia said. She just knew that she had him. He would cave. He always had before. She grinned smugly.

"Well, _Mother_ ," Ophelia cringed at the title, and Blaise ignored this. "That is quite impossible. We were married using the Gr´a Siorai spell, as well as by Muggle standards. You will find it quite legal. It cannot be contested by law. I'm sure you know of the Gr´a Siorai spell, what with your many matrimonial adventures," Blaise said evenly.

"I will tell. Don't think for a moment that I won't," Ophelia hissed.

"Madam, you don't have a thing to tell, that anyone who will soon buy a copy of The Daily Prophet doesn't already know," Hermione said candidly.

"What are you talking about, girl?" Ophelia said in a superior tone.

"I have many friends, acquaintances, and people who owe me favors. It wasn't hard to find someone who wanted an exclusive. One of the best friends of The Boy Who Lived and the mysterious CEO of Prospero Gaming and Entertainment Incorporated marrying in a romantic, secret Australian wedding? Well, that is big news to say the least," Hermione said.

The crowd gasped. They hadn't seen drama like this since Patricia Hornblende ran off with her music instructor. That scandal had been tame compared to this!

Hermione and Blaise smiled at each other.

The day before, after a grueling flight from Australia, Hermione and Blaise had visited an old acquaintance.

Rita Skeeter's hands had literally rubbed together in journalistic glee at the prospect of writing the expose. A mysterious, eccentric inventor marrying the cleverest witch of her age? A former Slytherin marrying the Gryffindor Princess? One that was already engaged to a French heiress and to be married on the morrow? Rita thought she had died and reached Nirvana. After pitching the idea to her editor, she assured the couple that it would be front page news.

Hermione had liked the idea of stealing Ophelia's thunder, and as she knew that Rita was unregistered beetle Animagus, she knew that she could control how the article would depict them. Rita would do anything to keep that particular fact under wraps. The way it was worded covered all bases. The stockholders would look like the prejudiced pigs they were if they tried to cause any problems, and Ophelia was now out of ammo.

"You are _that_ Hermione?" Ophelia gasped.

"Indeed," Hermione said, kissing her husband's cheek.

Ophelia looked around the crowd, noticing the gleeful look on some of the guest's faces and screamed. The sound was loud enough to shatter glass, and she fell to the floor in a faint, her hair askew, looking anything but polished.

The guests simply stepped around her, heading out the door.

* * *

Hermione was lying in her husband's arms, surrounded by frothy bubbles. The water was warm and relaxing. Something they definitely needed after the trying day.

She had dodged calls to her mirror all day only answering her friends and family, promising an explanation after she returned from her much needed honeymoon. The only other caller had been Rita Skeeter to inform her that the issue had been a complete sell out, even more copies sold than the issue announcing Voldemort's death.

"Are you sad that you have lost your anonymity?" Hermione asked Blaise, turning to kiss his wet jaw. Being with her was enough on its own, what with the constant scrutiny, but now that he had been outed so to speak, he would have to deal with even more attention.

"Not in the least. It needed to be done. I was tired of being afraid, and well, if it had cost me you, it wouldn't have been worth much. No, I'm glad that it is out," Blaise said quietly.

"Good, I wouldn't have wanted you to resent me for that," Hermione said.

Blaise turned her in his arms, looking into her eyes. "I would never resent you. Hermione, you are such a gift. I want nothing more in life but to cherish you. Everything else comes second."

Hermione smiled, kissing his lips softly. "Well, Mr. Zabini, I do believe our wedding night is overdue."

Blaise pulled her to him, her legs settling on either side of his hips. "Hmmm, Mrs. Zabini, I believe you are right," he said before pulling her into a kiss.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

* * *

Hermione stuck her key into the knob, turning the handle and entering the town house.

"Mummy! Raide is trying to melt my Barbie in the microwave!" three year old Emmalie said, running across the floor. Her arms hugged Hermione's legs and she buried her face in her mother's skirt.

Hermione sighed. "Raide Noyes Zabini! You get in here this instant!" She heard the sound of the microwave door opening and closing.

Raide came into the room, his chubby arms behind his back. He grinned at his mother, his little cheeks dimpling.

Hermione had to caution herself not to melt. Raide and his twin Emmalie looked so much like Blaise it was uncanny. The both had his beautiful dark curls and eyes, their skin a glowing caramel color.

"Raide, did you try to microwave Emmie's Barbie?" Hermione said evenly.

Raide pouted. "I wasn't going to really do it, Mummy."

"Okay, but was it nice to make your sister think that you were going to?" Hermione asked.

Raide looked down. "No, Mummy."

"I want you to apologize to your sister," Hermione said gently.

"Sorry, Emmie," Raide said contritely.

"Now, give her a hug and kiss," Hermione said, pushing back a giggle when the little boy's nose wrinkled in disgust. He was just getting to the point where he thought all girls were yucky.

He grudgingly hugged his sister with one arm, smacking a kiss on her cheek.

"Now, I want you to play nice. You can go and watch some cartoons until time for dinner," Hermione said, the words barely leaving her mouth as the kids ran to the den, whoops erupting from their mouths.

Hermione sat down on the couch, removing her heels and massaging her slightly sore feet. Work had been brutal that day. She was glad to come home to her kids and husband, and was looking forward to relatively quiet dinner.

Hermione had been working for the Ministry for the past three years, actually just before she had become pregnant with the twins.

Blaise and Hermione had decided to wait a few years to have children, and Hermione had just passed her twenty-second birthday when she learned that they were expecting. Blaise had been euphoric. He wanted as many children as they could have. He had never liked being an only child and he didn't want that for his own children. Hermione smiled fondly. Her husband had been over the moon when he found out that they were having twins.

Blaise fit in surprisingly well with her family and friends. There, of course, had been a moment with her father, all men had to deal with the fact that their daughter had grown and was married.

Joan had jumped right into wedding plans, and they had finally had a huge wedding to encompass all their friends and family. Hermione hadn't had the heart to tell her mother that she still preferred her small intimate wedding.

Blaise had simply chuckled at her annoyance.

Ophelia, of course, didn't deign to appear at the wedding, and Hermione was okay with that. She had only worried about Blaise's feelings.

"I only need you in my life to be happy," Blaise had said, quieting her concerns.

They didn't hear from Jacqueline again, the only mention being an offhand comment by one of Hermione's coworkers stating that she heard the witch had gotten married to a count. More power to her, Hermione had thought. Blaise had simply shrugged.

Where is my husband? Hermione thought. She stood, and walked in her stocking feet upstairs.

She heard his voice singing softly, the smoky rich tone soothing. She approached a slightly ajar door and her heart softened at the sight within.

Blaise was singing to their infant daughter Jeanette.

" _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, when you're not happy my skies are gray_..." Blaise sang, looking into his daughter's eyes.

Jeanette was snuggled in a fluffy, pink blanket, her brown eyes closing softly. Her lips slightly puckered in sleep.

Blaise stood slowly, walking over to the crib. He settled Jeannie into her bed, leaning over to kiss her in her soft curls.

Blaise turned away, tiptoeing to the door, where he saw his wife.

"Hello, wife," he said kissing her softly.

"Hello, husband," Hermione replied, nuzzling her nose against his.

Hermione loved her life, husband, and kids. It might not have been what she had planned for herself, but she couldn't imagine anything better.

* * *

 **The End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story. :)


End file.
